


The Saffron Soul

by BeautifulFiction_FMA



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Ed., Language - thanks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:43:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 266,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulFiction_FMA/pseuds/BeautifulFiction_FMA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a serial killer blurs the lines of alchemy in an effort to seal two souls together, Ed finds himself under suspicion from the police. Can he prove he is innocent, or are he & Roy doomed to suffer the consequences of the killer's ideals? Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst/Romance<br/><em>Initially published 2010</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Note On The Universe: This follows neither the anime nor the manga, really, but is set in an alternate timeline where Al has been returned, Ed has retained both Automail and his alchemy, Roy does not have that _thing_ (moustache) on his lip, and Hughes survived. Once more, I'm just playing with the characters as I please with little or no thought to the canon bits I didn't like ;)
> 
> * * *

Ed frowned as the spring breeze rustled the newspapers on the vendor's cart, making the panic-filled headlines flicker. People were crowded around, buying copies to feed their morbid addiction, but Ed was not going to bother wasting his money. He could find out all he needed to know from the front pages.

“Fifth victim claimed by the Cut-Throat Killer!”

It was getting worse. What had started off as nothing but a back-page murder was suddenly being splashed over every tabloid. Central was no stranger to serial killers, but this one was causing more than an average stir. Details were scarce as the police kept their lips shut, being led on one wild-goose chase after another, but the rumours flew thick and fast, growing more gory and lurid with each passing day. All anyone knew was that the victims had their throats cut, but in the darkest recesses of his mind, Ed doubted that the killings would be so quick and clean. He knew humanity too well to believe that.

'Another murder?'

Ed turned to see his seventeen-year-old brother at his side, breakfast from the bakery across the street in his hands. The scent of bacon and hot bread hit Ed like a battering ram, and he snagged one of the foil-shrouded packages from Al's grip. Peeling back the wrapping and taking a huge bite, he began to walk, leaving the papers and their readers behind. 'Don't worry about it,' he said around a mouthful. 'Fucker'll slip up eventually. They'll get him.'

'He's already killed five people, Brother,' Al replied. He took the first mouthful of his breakfast with a bit more finesse, but Ed did not miss the brief, worshipful way that Al shut his eyes, relishing the taste. He had been back in his body for nearly a year, but Al still took nothing for granted. He appreciated the little things in life, and not even murder could stop him enjoying his breakfast. When he had chewed and swallowed that first bite, Al added, 'How many more people have to die before the police get him behind bars?'

It was a good question, and Ed had no answer. For eight weeks the sporadic murders had continued, and there was no real sign of them coming to a halt. 'It's the cops' jobs, not ours. There's nothing we can do about it, Al.' Ed shrugged, wrinkling his nose as he heard a couple of women whispering nearby, talking in the high, frightened hush of panic. 'The police won't hand over any details, and the military's got no jurisdiction so we're pretty powerless. As for you, you're well out of it. Concentrate on school.'

Al gave him a brief, sarcastic look, and Ed grinned, knowing it was a needless instruction. Almost as soon as he'd had the strength, Al had begun looking into what he could do with his life. At first, he had wanted to hold back and wait for Ed to finish in the military, but eighteen months was a long time to sit around doing nothing. In the end, it had not taken longer than ten minutes for Ed to convince his brother to sign up for classes in medicine and biology at the university. As far as Ed could tell, Al had not looked back since. He was having a great time, and Ed would not change that for the world.

'I just wish they'd catch whoever's doing this so things can go back to normal,' Al said, devouring the last of his hot sandwich and pitching the wrapper into a nearby bin. 'This is worse than when Barry the Chopper was on the loose. Everyone's on edge.'

'It'd help if the papers would shut up about it,' Ed muttered, glaring at another vendor who was yelling out the sensational headlines at the top of his lungs. 'It's not like they're telling us anything new. People are turning up dead with their throats cut. Everything else is just guess-work, and it's freaking people out. They're not even naming the victims.'

Nearby, one of the clock towers struck eight, joined within moments by its other, distant neighbours. Ed huffed a sigh, licking crumbs from his left fingers before slipping on his gloves. 'I've got to go, Al, I'm meant to be in the office in ten minutes. Get to class, and stop worrying!'

'Be careful at work,' Al called, 'and leave me a note if the brigadier-general gives you an out-of-town assignment!'

'He'd better not,' Ed replied darkly, waving a quick farewell to Al before heading away into the morning bustle. He looked back over his shoulder once to watch his little brother wander out of sight, stamping down hard on the protective instinct that grumbled in his stomach. Sibilant, panicked thoughts whispered in Ed's mind, but Al was in no more danger than anyone else in the city. Besides, he was far from defenceless; he sparred with Ed, just like old times, and Ed still had to fight for every little victory.

A grin crossed Ed's lips unbidden as he strode through the morning crowd. When they were searching for the stone, he had never really dared to hope for a life this good. His brother was healthy and normal, and maybe the memories of their past would haunt them both, but now they were beginning to find that there was a life after the wreck of their childhood and twisted adolescence. For Al, the future was about learning. He turned his hand to everything and anything, soaking up knowledge like a sponge. For Ed...

For Ed, it had always been about Al, but with each day that passed, he began to realise that Al did not need him so much anymore. They would always be brothers, tied close by the nightmares through which they had lived, but they were no longer each other's shadows. Clanking footsteps did not follow Ed wherever he went; he walked alone, these days, and sometimes he was not sure whether the tightness in his chest was joy or some screwed up kind of grief.

Shaking his head to himself, Ed forced the thoughts from his mind. He could work out what to do with his life the day he handed in his watch. In the meantime, he just had to make sure he did not die on some stupid mission or, more likely, smash in Mustang's smug, perfect face and end up in jail. That would be easier said than done. He and Mustang might have managed a very vague respect, but the bastard was painfully good at pushing Ed's buttons. He would have thought that years of practice would make the git more tolerable, but Ed still rose to the bait every time, much to Mustang's delight.

Ed scuffed his boots along the pavement as he approached the perimeter, flashing the watch to the bored sentries and ambling across the parade ground. The dusty, packed surface had turned muddy from daily rain-showers, and puddles reflected back the overcast sky. The air smelled of storms and car-exhaust while the wind nipped at his cheeks, no longer winter's harsh bite, but still a far cry from summer.

Huddling a little in his coat, Ed trotted up up the steps and pushed his way into Central Command, glancing around the familiar hallways without really seeing them. The place thronged with soldiers, some hurrying about, the picture of efficiency, while others loitered around, sharing whispered rumours or reading the latest journalistic offerings. Al was right about one thing, the entire city was on edge, and that included the military. Soldiers gossiped like fish-wives given half-the-chance, but they had better connections than the average citizen. Ed knew that diamonds of truth could be found amidst the dross of speculation, if someone were to look hard enough.

Ed's gaze alighted on a brown-haired figure leaning comfortably against the wall, watching him with green, inquisitive eyes and a faint smile. Hughes gave him a nonchalant wave, beckoning him closer, and Ed tried to hide a grimace. It was too early in the morning for him to tolerate a whirlwind of adoration for Elysia, but a quick look at Hughes' expression told him this was all about business. His right hand was clamped hard around a file in his hand, white-knuckled with tension, and a prickle of unease went down Ed's spine as he propped himself against the wall next to Hughes. 'What, Mustang too busy to give me my assignment today?' he asked casually, frowning as something like guilt fluttered over Hughes' expression.

'Actually, Ed, this is a favour for me. Roy doesn't know the details, just that I'm borrowing you for the day. Is that okay?' He scratched at his stubble and shifted his weight stiffly. Ed knew the gunshot wound that had almost robbed Hughes of his life and left him out of action for more than a year still caused the older man pain sometimes. It looked like today was one of the bad days. Hughes' normally smiling lips were bracketed with lines, and shadows rested under his eyes, half-hidden by his spectacles. Ed resisted the urge to ask if he was all right. Hughes had grown weary of that question a long time ago. Besides, it would be better to help the man with whatever problem he had than offer vague concern and platitudes.

'Sure. I got nothing better to do.' He held out his hand for the file, lifting an eyebrow when it was not immediately relinquished. 'What's going on? You want me to work on whatever that is, or not?'

Hughes clenched his jaw, looking Ed up and down as if trying to judge if he was about to make a huge mistake. Whatever he saw, it seemed to appease his doubts as he said, 'This is top-secret. Not even the Fuhrer knows about it. I'm helping out a friend in the civilian police – well, you are, actually.' Hughes gave him the dossier, and Ed could feel those eyes watching him, gleaning information from every minuscule shift of his expression.

'The murders?' Ed asked without opening the file. 'Wouldn't it be better to give me this in your office? It's kind of easy for someone to overhear us.' He gestured to the corridor, still bustling with soldiers and staff. 'Not exactly private, is it?'

'The people who work for me have made a career out of knowing how to listen. As odd as it seems, it's more secure out here.' Hughes turned to face Ed, one shoulder still leaning against the wall as one hand briefly touched at the old scar on his chest and a wince pinched his eyes. 'Damn thing,' he muttered, giving a crooked smile. 'No need to look like that. Your automail probably twinges worse.'

Ed grunted, opening the file and rolling his eyes as he found several pages of text. Most of it had been blacked out, and the few details Ed could glean were nothing he did not already know. 'What can I do about this?' he asked.

'Camilla, that's Deputy Inspector Anders to you, has unofficially requested the help of an alchemist – someone who would not blab to the press and, above all, might have some clue about this.' He pulled out a glossy photograph, passing it to Ed as nonchalantly as if he were handing over a picture of Elysia. 'Remind you of anything?'

Ed glanced at it, and the blood in his veins went dead and cold.

A soul seal.

Except that this was far more complex than the simple mark that Ed had daubed on Al's armour. There were more facets to it, not just jagged lines but loops and coils, whirling inside a solid circle circumference. The intricacy was incredible, and if Ed had not recognised the darker elements that made its foundation he would have admired it. As it was, it felt like he was staring at an echo of the worst moment of his life.

'Are you all right?'

Hughes' question broke into the clanging silence of shock, and Ed sucked in a breath, dragging the scattered parts of his mind together again so that he could focus. 'Yeah, is this carved on human skin?'

His question came out more harsh than he had intended, but Hughes did not so much as blink at his tone. Instead, he met Ed's gaze with empathy and a faint edge of disgust at the subject matter. 'Yes,' he murmured. 'Other than the slit throat, it's about the only thing the victims have in common. A mark like that on the inside of their wrist.' Hughes looked down at the floor, keeping his voice low. 'Alchemy's not my thing, but I saw Al's soul seal once. As soon as I saw this photo, I thought of it.' He looked up, and there was a gleam of certainty in his gaze. 'If anyone can help the police work out what the killer's trying to do, it's you, Ed.'

The picture slithered between Ed's gloves as he spun it idly around, staring at the reflections in its shiny surface rather than looking at the gruesome thing depicted in its frame. 'You got any more pictures of it, or more information?' He gestured with the hand holding the file, and the two pages trapped inside gave a desultory rustle at the movement.

'Everything you'll need is at the police station,' Hughes replied, taking the dossier out of Ed's hand and tucking it under his arm. 'I don't have anything else and, as far as the police and the military are concerned, this is off the books.' Hughes sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. 'The police can't officially ask for our help without handing over jurisdiction to us, and after all the dealings under Bradley...' He trailed off, and Ed nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

'They think the army will do what's best for itself and screw justice in the process.' Slipping the photo in his pocket, Ed straightened up, turning to face the door he had walked through only a few minutes before. 'Just one question: why aren't you telling Mustang about this? It's not like he's going to care.'

Hughes gave a crooked grin and waved his hand. 'The fewer people who know the details, the better. I will inform Roy, of course, but it can wait until after his morning coffee. I'd rather he was in a half-decent mood when I explain what it is you're looking at. If nothing else, he'd want to send someone with you, and I'd rather not have anyone in a soldier's uniform breathing down the necks of the police.' He jerked his head towards the exit. 'You know where you're going, right?'

'Big brick building about a block away with “police” written across the front?' Ed asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes when Hughes just laughed in response. 'I'll see you later, and if Mustang gets in a shitty mood about this, it's your fault.'

'If you say so, and Ed?' Maes ducked his head when Ed glanced back at him. 'Thanks for helping me out with this. I'll sleep better once someone's put this guy away.'

With a quick nod, Ed strolled back the way he had come, leaving the hustle of the compound behind him as he ambled out into the street again. The morning rush had died down, and the streets were less crowded as he walked towards the police station. All this cloak and dagger stuff had never been his thing. A punch, an array, a purpose – Ed could respect all of that, but Hughes dealt in lies, masks and information. It left Ed feeling out of his depth, edgy and tense. His skin prickled as if all the eyes of the world were upon him, and he tightened his grip on the photograph in his pocket.

At least he had not had to deal with Mustang this morning. Ed hated standing in that office; it was no better than back when he was a kid, scared and trying to hide it behind false bravado. Now he just felt like a dog on a short leash, snapping and snarling while Mustang smirked. It was not just that the bastard was so intolerably smug about everything, it was the air of superiority that surrounded him, as if he really was the god of _everything_ and Ed was so very insignificant in comparison. He always felt low, small, and dirty in Mustang's presence, and his own disdain was reflected so clearly back at him from that mirror-calm face.

Ed knew Mustang could manipulate anyone: the right word in the right place and, just like that, he got his way. It was a skill Mustang had honed into a weapon, and Ed could not help but respect that, even when it was used against him. However, it was hard to remember that spark of admiration when standing in front of that desk while the bastard smirked and teased, poking subtly at Ed's insecurities and making him so unbelievably angry with nothing more than _words._

Even now, the thought of Mustang's smirking face made Ed's jaw clench tight and his nerves spark with familiar anger. He had tried not to let the git get to him, but it never worked. Mustang knew him too well and took a sick amount of pleasure in jerking Ed around for his own amusement.

With a shake of his head, Ed pushed his thoughts of Mustang away. For today, at least, he had been given a reprieve. All he had to do was focus on unravelling the gruesome arrays. That, he could do. Alchemy made sense to him, full of black and white logic. It was people who remained a baffling mystery.

In a matter of minutes, the police station came into view: a squat, utilitarian building, ugly in its blandness. The street lamps flanking its door were shielded with blue glass, dull now in the daylight. He spared them little more than a glance as he climbed the concrete steps, pushed aside the heavy wooden door and glanced around.

Thick, metal bars, packed close, covered the windows, and buzzing fluorescent lights lit the toxic-green linoleum floor. The walls were grimy and stained, splattered with brown stains that could have been coffee but looked a bit more like blood. There were scuffs of rubber here and there where someone had lashed out resisting arrest, but despite all the signs of violence and chaos, the place was almost deserted. Crime was a nocturnal kind of job, and Ed tried not to feel out-of-place and guilty as he approached the battered reception desk.

It was a mess of lost property and paperwork, with one sad looking house plant and several cups of coffee that looked like they had grown cold days ago. The man in the seat was on the phone, his bland face pinched with annoyance as he spoke in curt, snappy words to whoever was on the other end.

'I don't care what he says. Bring him in.' The phone clattered back onto the receiver, and Ed was met with cold glare the colour of rain-clouds. 'What do you want?'

'I need to speak to Deputy-Inspector Anders,' Ed replied, dragging his watch free and shoving it under the cop's nose. He did not look impressed, and his expression only soured further when Ed added, 'I've been told I might be able to help with your serial-killer problem.'

'You? You're barely old enough to shave.' He flicked his fingers dismissively at the pocket-watch. 'Put that away. I know who you are. I hope you don't expect me to be impressed.' The cop hissed that last word like a snake, eyes narrowed spitefully. 'I'll inform Anders you're here. Max, watch him!'

Ed glanced around, expecting to see a slobbering police dog, and raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw a man roughly Armstrong's size standing passively in the corner. It should not be possible for anyone that size to blend in with the scenery, but he was so still that Ed had overlooked him completely. His hair was shaved close to his head, and the stubble on his scalp was so pale it looked white. Arms were folded over a barrel chest, the black uniform straining to contain him, and brown eyes stared at Ed patiently.

Normal people blinked, and Ed's eyes stung in sympathy as he looked away from Max's unbroken stare. He was like a statue, but breathing, and Ed was too well-trained not to sense that he was the centre of the big man's intelligent attention. This was no thug – there was a brain at work under there – and Ed shifted uncomfortably as he waited in silence, picking absently at the scuffed surface of his watch as he tried not to feel like an insect under a microscope.

'You are the Fullmetal Alchemist?' Max rumbled, and Ed glanced sharply back at him, not missing the accent that tinted his words. No way was this guy born in Amestris.

'Yeah,' Ed muttered, trying not to feel off-balance when Max nodded as if the only question that mattered had been answered. Normally people began asking him the most ridiculous things, like how old he was and how he got into the military in the first place, but it seemed the policeman did not care. At least he had bothered to ask, unlike his colleague, who walked back in, muttering under his breath before he snatched some files from the desk and glared at Ed once more.

'Follow me,' he ordered, turning his impervious gaze on the big man in the corner. 'Max, stay.'

Ed gritted his teeth at the command, so like one you would throw at a dog that he was amazed anyone would obey it, but Max simply inclined his head as if he were accustomed to such treatment. Ed was tempted to protest, to say he required Max for something just for the sake of making the pompous git in front of him twitch, but he could not think of a lie quick enough.

The grey-eyed man strode away, muttering something about lazy foreigners, and Ed had to hurry to keep up. Their boots squeaked on the tattered, grimy floor as Ed was led down a narrow corridor and to a thin, cheap looking door with a brass name-plate on it.

He could see the expression on the cop's face in the polished metal: intense displeasure rapidly being schooled into something insipid, and anger clenched in Ed's gut. He knew the type: the military was full of them. They were traitors waiting to turn, two-faced and bitter, and it seemed this guy did not like Anders any better than Max. No doubt he thought if someone wasn't pasty, middle-aged and male, they weren't worth knowing.

Abruptly, the man pushed the door open, thrusting it wide and marching in with his head held high, no doubt hoping to impress as he announced, 'The Fullmetal Alchemist to see you, Deputy Inspector Anders.'

The woman at the desk did not look up, although Ed saw her shoulders rise and fall in a minuscule sigh. She finished what she was doing, signing something with a few broad strokes of her pen before she finally lifted her brown eyes and looked at them both. Anders was older than Mustang, Ed decided, but probably only by a decade or so. She looked like someone who had put up with shit all her life and had finally decided to take no more of it.

'Thank you, Warner,' she said, sounding anything but grateful as she reached for some files on her desk. 'Major Elric, I appreciate you coming to see us. I hope you were told that this is completely unofficial?'

'Yeah, someone might've said something like that,' he replied, holding out a hand for the files and frowning when Warner made an indignant noise.

'Ma'am, those files are confidential,' he said in a slick voice. 'How do we know he won't go straight to the press?'

'Because he is a young man of integrity, and you'll be with him, Warner, making sure he doesn't leave with anything important. That way, if he goes to the papers, he'll have no proof.' It was said smoothly, and only a quick glance in Ed's direction showed anything like an apology, as if she regretted the implied accusation. 'Anything you can tell us about these designs would be helpful, Major. Warner will show you a place where you can work in peace and bring you anything you need. I'll be with you shortly.'

Ed wanted to sigh, but he held it inside, knowing that arguing was a futile exercise. He hated working with an audience, but it seemed like he did not have any choice, this time. Not only would Warner be looking over his shoulder the entire time, but Anders wanted in on it, as if she planned to leap into action the moment he found even a glimmer of a clue.

'I'll do my best,' he replied at last, giving a faint shrug. It was all he could promise. Just because he had recognised some elements of the design did not mean he would be able to give them anything but a guess: the killer was playing some kind of sick game, but Ed doubted that a few photos would be able to tell him the rules.

'That's better than nothing,' Anders said, and Ed noticed the tight lines that pinched her brow. 'Thank you. Warner, put him in the office down the hall.'

A quick nod was all the acknowledgement Warner could manage, and Ed met the man's glare with equal disdain for a second before letting him lead the way. He did not know what the fucker's problem was, but Ed could guess. It would not be personal, not yet, anyway; Warner was the kind of idiot that Ed despised, one who carved out narrow pigeon-holes in his mind and then categorized people according to his internal prejudices. It made Ed's fists itch, but he shook it off. As long as the slimy git did not get in the way of his work, then Ed would have to let it slide. Punching a police officer would not be considered subtle behaviour, no matter how tempting it was.

Warner led him deeper into the police station, and Ed could practically smell the tense desperation that hung in the quiet air. There were not many other officers about, and Ed assumed they were out on the beat or trying to solve crimes or something. There were more than half-a-dozen of these stations dotted all over the city, but Ed had still thought it would be busier than _this._

'In here,' Warner said, shoving a door open unceremoniously and flicking on a light switch. The room revealed was stark and lifeless. A pair of desks were pushed against the walls, and a couple of chairs stood in front of them, covered in threadbare fabric and sagging with age: clearly it did not pay to be in public service.

'Is there anything you require?'

It was not a friendly question, and while Ed's parched throat cried out for coffee, he did not trust Warner not to spit in the cup or put milk in it out of spite. 'Just let me work,' he replied dismissively, putting the files down on the table and sitting in the chair. It would have been more comfortable sitting on a spike, and Ed realised the sooner he could get this over with, the better. He would rather be on a clanky, rattling train for some assignment to the middle of nowhere than in this dank place.

His surroundings faded easily as he opened up the paperwork, frowning at the censored material. These were probably copies; the cops were being cagey. There was no way to tell the names of the victims, and descriptions were non-specific: height, weight, hair colour – they could match anyone. At first glance they seemed to have nothing in common.

Except the array.

Ed's eyes gravitated towards the pictures, feeling anew the moment of skin-prickling horror at the canvas the alchemist had used. Yet Ed doubted it was coincidence or satisfying some twisted kink on the murderer's part. The design was full of human purpose; being carved into flesh was probably a necessity. Every image showed blood-smeared skin, so the victims had still been alive when inscribed and transmuted, but what was the point of it?

No obvious rhyme or reason emerged from the narrow frame photographs. Ed could see the curve of a hand and fingers, but mostly the array filled his mind's eye. Absently, he realised that sometimes it was the left wrist sliced up while others it was the right, but no real pattern shone through, and Ed found himself focussing on the one thing he could begin to comprehend.

Al's soul seal was simple but effective, designed to tie the soul to the armour through the iron in both. This alchemist had been dealing with more complex materials: the chemical mess that composed the human body was unstable at best, and the last design showed that clear enough. Yet the earlier ones were simpler, more idealistic, and Ed blinked in surprise as he realised what he was seeing. The array was evolving – the people upon which it had been placed were probably nothing but failed experiments, but at least they could tell Ed the story of the alchemy that had cost them their lives.

Working quickly, he snagged the photos from each file, ignoring the dates on the back and constructing his own time-line, his eyes skimming over the familiar aspects of the original design, soon lost within a twisting knot of intricate amendments. In moments, he had the five pictures lined up in the order of array development, and Ed bit his lip, glancing up briefly to grab a pencil and paper before he started to sketch down what he could see.

By the time the door opened to admit Deputy-Inspector Anders, more than an hour had passed. The desk was littered in scraps of paper and Ed's teeth had left marks in the pencil where he had chewed it in thought. He barely noticed the interruption, and if the woman had not cleared her throat he would not have looked up at all. As it was, he lifted his gaze to find Anders, Warner and Max all watching him with varying degrees of emotion.

'Have you had any luck?' Anders asked, her voice rich with hope. It was clear the police were at a complete dead-end with this case, and no one wanted to have to wait for another victim on the off-chance they might find more clues.

'I can tell you more about the array, but I don't know if it'll help.' Ed flicked metal fingers at the photographs, indicated the line-up. 'Whoever did this is familiar with alchemy, but they're not great at it. This array is basic.' He pushed forward the first photo. 'Like it was copied from a book or something – an old book. Modern alchemy doesn't use these symbols anymore.' He tapped the glyphs gouged near the outer circumference, and Ed could not help the grimace on his face. He had seen them before often enough in his hunt for the stone, but never charted out in anything but ink and paper.

'Whatever they were trying to do with this one, it didn't work, so they started getting inventive. All of these were failed attempts. Each time the design gets more complex, but it's still not enough.' Picking up the last photograph, Ed stared at the picture, wishing he could get it to give up its secrets just by glaring at it. He knew dark, twisted alchemy when he saw it – had brushed up against the sinister, bloody side of transmutations too often to remain oblivious – and something about the last design was teasing the edges of his mind: whispering.

'So after all that, you can't tell us anything new,' Warner sneered. 'I thought you were meant to be a genius.'

Ed did not even spare him a glance. It was a weak jibe, and he was too absorbed in the puzzle to be bothered with putting the little man in his place. 'The basic foundation of this is a form of human transmutation: a soul seal.' Ed scowled, hating that word. “Soul” was too riddled with religious connotations, too laden with false beliefs and myths, and everyone always jumped to the wrong conclusion. 'They were trying to use the part of these people that made them human – their core existence, and use it for something. I just don't know what.'

Silence settled on the room, and Ed could feel the cocktail of uncertainty stirring the air. Anders looked distressed, her brow pinched and firm lines bracketing her mouth. Her hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at her side, and Ed could see her jaw working as she processed what he had said. Warner was the opposite, derisive and disbelieving. Only Max seemed impassive, watching Ed with that same unwavering gaze, arms folded and his face relaxed.

'Can you tell if they succeeded?'

Slowly, he shook his head, picking up the final picture and turning it idly around in his fingers. One edge of the array had been cut off, as if the photographer had been trying to leave something out of the frame. 'If this one's complete, then maybe, but it's impossible to tell. The fact the person ended up dead makes it unlikely, but I don't know. Is there a better photo of this?'

He held it up for Anders to see, watching her as she turned and walked over to a filing cabinet. It was heavily locked, not just some flimsy two barrel thing, but bolted and padlocked. Metal clanked and keys rattled as she fought her way inside, pulling out five separate files. She kept them tucked close to her chest, rifling through the documents until, at last, she found what she was looking for.

Ed took the offered square of glossy paper, but as soon as his eyes fell upon the image, existence stuttered to a halt. Now he could see what the photographer was trying to hide: a tattoo – a distinguishing mark that might identify the victim. Of course, people got the same body art all the time, but not this one. This was custom-made, and Ed's stomach turned to cold, cracking ice as he stared at the familiar pattern.

He had traced the lines of that tattoo with his fingertips and kissed it softly in the morning. He could remember the taste of the skin that made its canvas, and now the memory was like a twisting dagger, digging and gouging at his mind. His breathing seemed to be coming from somewhere distant, as if he were using someone else's lungs, and a strange buzzing swarmed in his ears.

People died, Ed knew that; he had seen it happen, for fuck's sake, but this was different. Last time he had felt anything like this was with Nina Tucker – different but the same. Now it was as if someone had shattered apart the jigsaw of reality, and none of it made sense any more. Nameless, faceless victims were one thing, but this was no stranger.

'Major Elric, are you all right?'

'Greg – Greg Saunders, right?' His voice sounded almost normal, nearly calm, but it was too fragile to his ears. 'The fifth victim was called Greg Saunders.'

Anders leaned forward, her eyes intent, and her grip slackened on the files, sending two more spilling onto the desk. They were nothing but a jumble of paperwork, but Ed sought out the faces captured by the camera's uncaring eye, and shock turned to a tight, hard fist of nausea. Mortuary pictures were nothing like real life: pale and dead, with gory stitching like a tailor's mistake around their necks, but Ed still recognised the pair. Their names would have meant nothing to him, but he had seen their faces almost every day.

Weakly, he pulled one towards him, staring at it in disbelief. Part of him screamed that he needed to keep his feelings hidden. The police were as suspicious as hell already, and Ed needed time to get away and get his thoughts in order, but his numb mind was having none of it.

'You know them?' There was nothing friendly in Anders' voice anymore. It was cold and hard. Her tone would have been enough of a warning to Ed, but he was not really listening to anything but the words themselves. He had withdrawn into himself, pulled back and away as he was deafened by the scream of inner questions.

'Yes,' he managed, shaking his head a little as he tried to get his tongue to work. 'I don't know their names, but they work near me. She's a barista.' He pointed to the pretty blonde girl who always smiled at Al and made him blush. 'The other one is a florist in the shop at the end of my street.'

'One could be a coincidence, Major, easily tossed aside,' Anders said quietly. 'Three is not so simple to dismiss. What about these two?'

Ed did not want to look at the pictures she had in her hand, but he had never been a slave to fear, and he dragged his gaze upwards, unable to keep the flinch off his face as the greasy sickness tightened. Now his voice was strangled by the shock, little more than a croak as he stared at the young man's face. 'Matt. He tends bar in the pub two doors away from my apartment, and Jo – she's – she's a neighbour. I don't know her last name. Lives two floors up from us.'

Other than Greg, they were little people in his day, that was all, but tremors still scraped down his spine like claws over a blackboard as a voice in his skull whispered, Not anymore.

'Deputy Inspector.' Warner's voice was slick with cruel delight, and Ed looked up to see that his eyes were bright with victory. 'It seems the major has a connection to all the victims, as well as an intimate knowledge of the alchemy performed. Isn't that convenient?'

There was no way Ed did not know what the little shit was getting at, but his voice still tightened as he gritted his teeth and snarled, 'What the fuck are you trying to say?'

'For all we know, you did this.' Warner looked torn between vicious disgust and happiness. 'The way I see it, you could have practised your sick little witchcraft on all of them and cut your losses when it went wrong.'

'If I was going to commit illegal, painful alchemy I'd do it on fuckers like you, not people I knew and liked!' Ed's fists were clenched hard on the table. He knew threatening the cops was a bad idea, but he did not care what this looked like. Every nerve felt too close to the surface, slick and cold with horror. Ed could not ignore that all these killings, all these lives lost, had something to do with him. It was too much for the choice of victims to be a coincidence.

'Deputy Inspector, he threatened me!' Warner's voice was high with outrage. 'He actually –'

'Enough!' Anders' voice cut through the air, making Warner jerk in shock. Ed bowed his head as she repeated herself, more softly this time. 'Enough. Major, I appreciate that you're distressed, but clearly you are closer to this case than any of us, perhaps even yourself, realised. We'll need to ask you some questions in the interrogation room.'

'Am I a suspect?'

The question hovered in the air, thick and oily, and Ed could sense the tottering equilibrium of diplomacy that Anders was trying to keep in check. If she said yes, there was a whole mess of military shit about to land right on her head, but if she said no, then for all she knew she could be letting a serial killer walk out of her station and back into the world.

Innocent until proven guilty had a time and a place, and somehow Ed doubted it was within these four walls. Maybe Anders wasn't so quick to put him in the killer's shoes, but Warner had clearly already made up his sneering, stupid little mind, and he wondered how many other people would believe the same thing when shown the circumstantial evidence.

'Right now, you're just helping us with our investigation,' Anders replied smoothly, her voice clipped around the non-answer. 'I am sure once we have all the facts things will become clear to all of us.'

Ed's head spun, leaving him lost in the whirlwind of shock and nausea. He was incapable of subterfuge at the best of times, but now? He could barely think around the questions and barely breathe over the weight of guilt-cum-grief that had tightened its hand into a fist beneath his ribs. And what about Al? What about his brother? Someone was killing people he knew; how was he meant to believe his little brother was not on their list?

That was not the only panicked thought shrieking in his mind: the police knew how to chase down answers. They could follow a trail that would lead right back into the depths of Ed's past, and there were secrets there that could get plenty of other people in trouble.

'I get a phone call, right?' he asked, trying to sound calm and collected when all he wanted to do was roar in defensive anger, to yell until they could all see that they were being blind and stupid. Out there some killer was picking away at the people he knew, taking them and serving them up to alchemy like some sick kind of sacrifice, but it would be pointless to tell the police that. He knew they would not listen.

'You're not under arrest, Major. We can make as many phone calls on your behalf as you want.' Anders ignored Warner's little sound of disgust, gathering up the files she had dropped and shuffling them into a neat pile. 'Who do you need?'

Ed bit his lip, hating that he was having to ask for this, but for once in his life he could see the trouble heading his way. He knew he would not be able to deal with it by himself. It was time to ask for help.

'Get Mustang and Hughes,' he ordered, looking up to meet Anders' gaze with a fierce glare. 'I won't say another fuckin' word until they're here.'


	2. Chapter 2

There had been worse mornings, Roy admitted to himself, but for sheer petty annoyances, this one was ranking towards the top of his “days I should have stayed in bed” list. It began with having no milk for his breakfast cereal and rapidly went down hill from there. Now Hughes was sitting in the armchair in Roy's office, his face fixed in an expression of barely genuine apology as he explained where Roy's most volatile subordinate was spending the day.

'Ed will help the police with this array and be back here by lunch-time,' Hughes said calmly, stretching back and putting his arms behind his head. 'You already said I could borrow him for a while, Roy. What's the problem?'

Hughes made it sound so inconsequential, but that did not stop the hard tension from singing along Roy's nerves. 'The problem is that you did not tell me you would be lending him out to the civilian police force.' He did not shout, his voice was firm and level, but he still pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his body language do the yelling for him. 'Fullmetal is not, under any circumstances, a good emissary. What arrays could possibly be present on the victims that another alchemist couldn't examine and understand?'

In his seat by the fire, his friend's relaxed posture visibly stiffened. It was subtle, but enough to make alarm bells ring in Roy's head, and it felt like the bottom fell out of his stomach as he realised exactly what Ed's true area of expertise could be. 'Hughes?' he asked, his voice just shy of a warning growl.

'When was the last time Falman and Fuery swept in here for bugs?' Hughes straightened up, glancing casually around the room before meeting Roy's eye.

'This morning, just before you arrived. It's clean.' Roy pressed his fingers to his forehead, resting his elbow on the desk and his chin on his hand as he muttered, 'The arrays were based on human transmutation, weren't they?'

Hughes got to his feet and dug his hands in his pocket, his lips twisting in a grimace. This time when he met Roy's eyes, he seemed truly repentant. 'Honestly, I didn't know what they were. They reminded me of Al's soul-seal, but my opinion's uneducated at best. I needed Ed to take a look, that's all.' Hughes gave a sad sigh. 'I don't like dragging up his past, you know that, but he could be the only person in the entire city who could shed some light on these murders.'

Roy nodded, knowing precisely how Hughes felt. Every time an assignment came across Roy's desk that could land Ed right back in the midst of his darkest memories, Roy was left with a moral dilemma: should he protect Ed, already battered and bruised from his past, or send him on a dangerous mission for the greater good?

At least at the police station he was unlikely to come to physical harm, but that did not stop one sick question swarming through Roy's mind. 'What if the police ask how he's so knowledgeable about human transmutation?'

Hughes waved a hand dismissively. 'Ed's intelligent, and he can lie. I've seen him do it. 'It's not like they're questioning him, Roy, he's just helping the police figure out what's going on. It's not a big deal.'

'So why not tell me until now?' Roy picked up the pen on his desk, tipping it back and forth as he looked over its slim, gleaming line at his friend. 'If there's so little to worry about, then why all the secrecy?'

Hughes crossed his arms, giving Roy a knowing look. 'If I'd told you what he was looking at from the start, then you'd have either given him different orders or sent someone else with him.'

'Not necessarily.' Roy pursed his lip, wishing that Hughes did not know him quite so well. If nothing else he would have commanded someone with more political awareness to keep an eye on Ed. Breda, Falman, even Havoc had some sense of the things that could and could not be said. All Ed had to do was utter the wrong sentiment at the wrong time and he could find himself behind bars on some trumped up charge.

'Liar,' Hughes said fondly. 'The military isn't meant to be touching this, Roy. It's a favour to a friend, and sending Ed over there is easy to hide. If he went with company, that's going to raise eyebrows and make the higher-ups ask questions. It's complicated.'

'It's political,' Roy corrected him, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh. 'Next time, I want all the details. I should have known better than to let you have Ed for the day without asking why.'

'You act like I've put him in mortal danger.' There was a hint of a smile on Hughes' lips, but Roy ignored it, poking gloomily at the pile of paperwork on his desk. At least with Fullmetal out of the way there was a faint chance he would get some work done. Somehow, that thought did not improve his mood.

'My concerns are not for Fullmetal's well-being, but for my reputation.' Roy winced, giving his head a small shake. 'He's a magnet for trouble; all I ever seem to get is complaints about his behaviour.' He flicked a sheaf of papers meaningfully. 'Do you have any idea how many ruffled feathers I have had to soothe since Ed joined up?'

'You encouraged him to side with the State, Roy,' Hughes pointed out. 'Besides, you whine about the complaints, but you've conveniently forgotten that Ed's actions have been fast-tracking you to promotion.'

'And making my life difficult in the process.'

Hughes laughed, a gentle, warm sound that never failed to bring a smile to Roy's lips. 'You need someone to challenge you; it stops you from getting bored. I'll let you know if Ed finds anything –'

A knock on the door cut him off, and they both glanced towards the threshold, watching the wooden panel swing on its hinges to reveal Hawkeye. The lieutenant looked as professional as always, but Roy was used to reading the tiny nuances of his men's expressions, and he could easily make out the faint pinch of confusion and uncertainty on her features.

'Yes, Lieutenant?'

'Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I have just received a call from Deputy Inspector Anders of the police.' Riza glanced down at her notepad, and Roy knew she would have taken down the entire conversation in short-hand. 'Edward has requested that both you and Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes join him at the police station as soon as possible.' The paper crinkled in her hand as she pursed her lips. 'That's the entirety of the message. She would not say why you were needed, or allow me to speak to Edward in person. Sir, do you know anything about this?'

Roy's stomach sank, and he glanced at Hughes, seeing that his friend's lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Maes was far from naïve, but when it came to handling Ed, Roy had far more experience. From the sounds of it, something had tweaked the suspicion of Anders and her men, and now Ed was stuck between the rock of their scrutiny and the hard, unforgiving secrets of his past.

Immediately, Roy's mind went into overdrive, creating excuses and back-stories – anything to dig Ed out of whatever hole he had landed himself in this time. Military trouble was something Roy could handle with ease, but the civilian forces were beyond his jurisdiction. His name and rank did not mean much to them, which meant he would have to rely on charm and persuasion. Two qualities which Ed definitely lacked.

'It's nothing to worry about, Lieutenant,' he said as he got to his feet, grabbing his coat from the rack and shrugging into it. 'I'm sure Ed's simply been the victim of a misunderstanding.' His words sounded superb, calm and convincing, but both Hughes and Riza shot him matching looks of disbelief. Roy could not blame them for that. After all, Ed did not do “misunderstandings”. It always seemed to be a calamity or nothing.

'Do you need a car, sir?' Hawkeye asked, already turning away to retrieve the keys.

'No, thank you. It's not a long walk, and there was that memo from the Fuhrer about unnecessary use of vehicles last week.' It was a good excuse, although Roy did not care about fuel consumption or wear-and-tear. The walk would give him the chance he needed to grill Hughes over precisely what was going on. Any sliver of information could be invaluable as leverage if this was more than Ed's standard brand of trouble.

Quickly, he and Hughes left the office, their footsteps echoing along the corridor before they were muffled by the packed dirt of the parade ground. Neither of them said a word, and it was only once they had crossed the perimeter that Hughes broke the silence.

'I can practically hear the “I told you so” echoing around inside your skull,' he said quietly, a whisper of a sad smile on his lips. 'You might as well just say it.'

'I would never gloat; it's undignified,' Roy replied lightly, looking over his shoulder to check that the bored, glassy-eyed sentries were out of earshot before he let his voice drop, low and serious. 'Tell me everything you've got about these murders. I don't care if it's rumours, genuine intelligence or just a hunch, Hughes; I need to know.'

His friend sighed, a genuine sound of distress, rather than any implication that Roy was being tiresome. Hughes sat like a spider in the centre of a web of information, weaving it all into a tapestry for the military's use; if anyone knew the gritty details, it was Maes. 'Five victims: young men and women all found with their throats cut,' Hughes began. 'Arrays had been carved into their wrist while they were alive, and the coroner noticed burns and other signs of a powerful transmutation gone wrong.'

'The array looks like a soul seal?' Alchemy was a vast field, far-flung with mystery, and Roy could not pretend that human transmutation was anything he understood, despite his occasional desperate moments in the past. The designs were always so complex: stunning constellations of science so dazzling it bordered on some kind of magic.

'The central bit does. I only saw Al's once, briefly, and it was simple compared to what was gouged in those people. Ed definitely recognised some of it. He got that look on his face.'

Roy did not need Hughes to elaborate. He knew the exact expression Ed wore whenever he stumbled across human transmutation again: a chilling cocktail of anger, pain, and deep, dark guilt. 'Did he tell you anything about it? Anything that might help?'

Hughes looked up as a car horn beeped up ahead, but the traffic carried on around them as he shook his head. 'I think he was reserving judgement until he knew more. The array is basically an unknown quantity to everyone involved in this investigation.'

'Except Ed, who will probably be able to pick it apart given enough time.' Roy pursed his lips, blowing out a breath as the spring breeze lifted his hair back from his face. 'What about the murderer, then? Someone must have done a profile?'

He knew Hughes well enough to recognise the moment he hit on something of real relevance. Roy was never told things outright, but over the years he had learned to follow a logical path of questioning to get Hughes to reveal every minor facet of a problem. Now, he could see the faint glimmer of something like pride in his friend's eyes, as if Roy had been unexpectedly clever.

'They know what they're doing,' Hughes said at last, keeping his voice low as a couple of women tapped past in their high-heels, talking in whispers between themselves. 'The bodies are bathed in some kind of scented oil. Maybe it happens when they're still alive, but it means that any fingerprints that might have been left in dirt on their skin slip and blur. They're useless.'

'No other clues: bits of fabric, conveniently incriminating documents clutched in their hand?'

'Whoever's doing this knows how to clean up after themselves. There's something else, something that doesn't quite fit in with the usual actions of a serial killer.' Hughes frowned into the distance, and Roy watched the dance of confusion on his expression. 'The coroner said there's no sign of sexual assault or brutality. They're not even roughed up a bit. They're well fed, and the only bruises are normally where they were restrained.'

'Manacles?' Roy asked.

'The marks are too faint.' Hughes looked over at Roy. 'The police think it's some kind of soft rope or swathes of fabric. Whoever is doing this does not appear to intend to hurt them.'

'Just use them in a messed up attempt at human transmutation,' Roy muttered darkly, turning the corner and letting out a sigh as the police station came into sight. 'There's a word for people who are treated with reverence and then used, you know.'

'What?'

'Sacrifice.

Roy checked the road before crossing over. He approached the steps to the police station in silence, only speaking when he stood at the foot of the short flight. 'Everything you've told me: bathed in oil, not hurt, restrained in something soft... Most serial killers act out of hate, but this? It sounds like the victims are being respected.'

'It doesn't do them any good, Roy,' Hughes reminded him. 'They still end up dead. Besides, solving the murders is not why we're here. How are we going to help Ed?'

Rubbing a hand at the nape of his neck, Roy shook his head. 'One step at a time. First, let's find out exactly what kind of mess Fullmetal's found himself in. Once we know that, we can think of a way to get him out. You know Anders better than I do. Anything I should know?'

'Whatever's happened, I know Camilla's just doing her job. She's not your standard cop. There's an intelligent mind in there, and she's been known to bend the law when it's necessary. This won't be some rash, petty incident.' Hughes scratched at his stubble. 'Let me do the talking, at least to start with.'

Roy nodded, knowing it was the logical choice. Their presence here was an intrusion, but at least Hughes had some connections with the woman in charge. Perhaps they could use that to their benefit.

The two of them fell into thoughtful silence as they climbed the steps and pushed their way through the battered door and into Reception. Harsh, fluorescent lights stripped away the shadows, and the air was sharp with the smell of industrial antiseptic and bitter, tar-like coffee.

A woman in her forties was waiting for them, and Roy allowed himself to be briefly impressed. He had no doubt she was Anders, and it was clear that she was a consummate professional, not just in the police, but in the political scene. Physically, she was average. Dark hair and eyes, short without her sensible heels, and an outward expression of docility.

However, Roy recognised a wolf in sheep's clothing when he saw one. This woman was intelligent: a valuable ally or a very troublesome enemy. He was surprised he had not heard of her before, but then there were many quiet, diligent people working just beneath the cream of the political society. He should know; he was one of them, after all.

'Deputy Inspector Anders, this is Brigadier-General Roy Mustang. We got your phone-call.' Hughes kept his voice friendly and open. There was no trace of an accusation in his words, and Roy hid a smile as he shook hands with Anders. There was a time and a place to start pushing, and right now Hughes was doing what he did best: gathering information.

'Yes.' She folded her hands in front of her, and Roy noticed that her fingers were clenched tight around one another. It was a classic control technique. She was distressed over something, and did not want to give it away through excessive body language. 'I'm sorry it has to come this, but Major Elric appears to have more connections to this case than we originally realised. He's being questioned in relation to the murders.'

Dread, a tiny worm of discontent in Roy's chest until now, seemed to swell and grow. Hughes was right: this was not some pithy revenge for one of Ed's slights or insults. Something had happened to turn this whole situation on its head, and Roy tried to shake off the unbalanced confusion that fluttered along his nerves.

'As a suspect?' Hughes asked quietly, the shock in his voice clear.

'My men were happy to jump to that conclusion,' Anders said, not bothering to keep her reservations out of her voice. 'I am not so keen to point the finger just yet. There was an unexpected development.'

Roy watched as her restless energy got the better of her, and she folded her arms across her chest, defensive and somewhat disbelieving. 'Originally, we did not show him more than the relevant designs, but he recognised a tattoo on the arm of one of the victims: was able to name him, and further investigation shows he knows every victim.'

Silence descended, a crushing iron fist that wrapped around them. Roy's breath stuttered in his throat, and he licked his lips, trying to hide his shocked reaction, but Anders was not watching him. Instead, she looked over her shoulder as if checking for eavesdroppers before she continued.

'I've seen enough criminals in my time to know good acting from genuine reaction. Logically I'm suspicious, but my gut's not so sure that the major is the one we're after. I've not officially listed him as a suspect in any documentation, but he requested your presence before he answered any questions.'

Roy looked down at the floor, clenching his jaw. He had been trying not to dwell on that salient point: Ed had asked for their help. If Fullmetal had one downfall, it was the independence that had grown from his pride. More often than not he would rather struggle through on his own than ask for assistance. It was disconcerting that, this time, he had done the sensible thing. Clearly Ed knew this was more than some simple misunderstanding, and a minuscule shudder trembled down Roy's spine as he considered the implications.

'Is he all right?' Hughes asked, raising a hand when Anders frowned. 'I'm not suggesting that he may have come to harm at the hands of your men. It would be shocking for anyone to find out that five of their acquaintances are dead.'

'He is as well as can be expected. The sooner we join him in the interrogation room, the better. We need to find out if this is merely a coincidence or something more incriminating.'

Roy looked over at Hughes, speaking for the first time. He kept his voice clear and concise, making sure not to exclude Anders with subtleties. 'We need to call the office and get someone to watch the major's brother. If someone has been attacking his acquaintances, Fullmetal will cooperate more fully if he knows Alphonse is safe.'

'Can I use your phone?' Hughes asked, smiling when Anders waved him towards the desk. It did not take more than a few minutes to get through to Hawkeye, and the problem was outlined with minimal detail before Hughes hung up and nodded to Roy. 'Havoc and Breda are both on their way to the university. They'll stay with him until they receive orders to the contrary.'

'Then, if you're ready, could you please follow me?'

A number of corridors spurred out from Reception, and Anders lead them down a narrow, claustrophobic passageway towards one of the interrogation rooms. Roy tried to take in his surroundings, but he was too lost in his thoughts to focus. He had come here expecting to mediate a minor argument and instead found a minefield of disaster waiting for him.

Not only did Ed understand the alchemy that formed the killer's signature, but he knew all those slain. In theory, that could provide the police with all the means, motive and opportunity they needed to put Fullmetal behind bars, regardless of the fact that he could not possibly have committed those murders.

Roy frowned to himself, crushing the dark moth of doubt that flashed across his mind. Ed was many things, but a killer was not one of them. Even when his life was in danger, he would risk his own existence rather than end that of another, particularly in pursuit of human transmutation. Ed had learned from his mistakes, and he was hardly to blame if his past kept returning to haunt him anew.

'In here.' Anders opened one of the brown, windowless doors, leading them into a bland concrete room, lit by nothing except a single glaring bulb overhead. The table and chairs were all fixed to the floor, no doubt essential should a prisoner get violent, and there was nothing else in the room apart from a tape recorder fixed to the tabletop with metal bands.

Finally, Roy let his gaze fall on Ed. Even in this dank room he shone like a torch; his blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he had taken his coat and gloves off, leaving both arms exposed. One gleamed wicked silver where he had them crossed over his chest, and the other was taut with cord-like muscles, stressed and tense, yet it was his eyes that held Roy's attention.

Submission had never been Ed's thing. Even now at eighteen, every challenge was met with fast, hard anger and painfully sharp intelligence. Ed's lack of control over his emotions was legendary, and while Roy respected that, he had always labelled Ed's passion as immature. Now, there was no sign of such emotion. His face was a blank mask, and those golden irises were flat and dim as if he were looking somewhere else entirely.

'Can I have a moment to talk to my subordinate alone, please?' Roy asked. It was a long shot, but he frowned all the same when the policeman sitting in the chair opposite Ed shot to his feet, lips flapping in disbelief.

'Deputy Inspector! This man's not a lawyer, and allowing the suspect to go over his story in private is nothing short of criminal.'

'Warner...' Anders said in a warning voice, smiling a faint apology at Roy as she stepped forward. 'The Brigadier-General is hardly going to be an accomplice. However, for the sake of the investigation I am sure whatever you have to say can be heard by all of us, sir?'

Roy nodded, giving Warner a calm, cold look as the man settled himself in his chair. He was clearly going to be in charge of questioning Ed, and Roy's heart sank. In his fifties and with the cruel, sneering kind of face, Warner looked like the kind of man who did not care about the truth – merely getting a conviction would be enough for him.

'Havoc and Breda are looking out for your brother, Edward,' he said, keeping his tone professional as if he were relaying another standard order. 'Considering this revelation we decided it was best to make sure he was safe.'

A tiny amount of tension eased from the set of Ed's shoulders, and he blinked himself back to the present, nodding once in understanding before he muttered, 'Guess they can ask their questions now, then.'

'Just be honest. No one who knows you will believe these suspicions. Tell them everything they want to know about your time in the military.'

Ed's eyes shot up to meet his, and Roy knew he had received the hidden message within that command. It was only his distant past that Ed needed to conceal. If the police asked about it, Roy had just given Fullmetal the green light to lie. Now he just had to hope that Ed could think on his feet.  
  
'Recorder's already on, Deputy Inspector,' Warner said, and there was a smug tone in his voice that set Roy's teeth on edge. 'Just in case he said anything before his babysitters got here. State your name.'

Roy expected Ed to snarl his answer; he hated being called a child, but this time he seemed too far removed to care. His face was unnaturally pale, and Roy could see what Anders meant about his reaction. Ed looked as if he had suffered a bad emotional shock, one too strong to conceal, and his words sounded dead as he answered, 'Major Edward Elric.'

Hughes had leaned back against the wall to watch what was happening, and Roy glanced over to him as Warner went through the preliminaries. He knew his friend would be taking everything in, but Roy did not know how he could look so relaxed. Just because Warner was a pompous idiot did not mean he was not a threat; he could easily trap Ed into giving answers. The trick was to keep Ed just angry enough to make his mouth go faster than his brain. Except Roy had never seen Ed quite like this before. Even after that mess with the Tuckers, there had still been the sharp edge of his rage to work with. Now there was nothing.

'Supposedly you came here to examine the arrays found on the victims. Care to explain how someone of your age has so much knowledge of forbidden alchemy?' Warner's first question was like the sting of a scorpion, venomous and to the point. He sat straight in his chair, files sprawled open in front of him and various gory photos poking out from beneath the documents.

'I've been in the military since I was a kid. I've seen enough of this shit to know what it looks like,' Ed replied, his eyes fixed blankly on a bare piece of tabletop.

'You know more than that, Major Elric. You're listed as the leading alchemist in the study of human transmutation; it's a matter of public record. Has no one ever questioned the origin of that expertise?'

They had, plenty of times. Roy had heard the whispered rumours, but they were all miles off the truth. Most people pinned the blame on Tucker; after all, his chimeras had skirted a dark edge of allowable alchemy, and Ed had been exposed to him at an impressionable age. Roy did his best to foster that idea, but what Ed said next made him realise that Fullmetal had not been as oblivious to gossip as Roy had imagined.

'When I was studying for the State qualification, I stayed with a man called Tucker, read his notes and stuff. He made chimeras, but he crossed a line. Blended a human, his daughter, with an animal.' He looked up, meeting Warner's eyes with the kind of glare that Roy had no doubt sent most threats running a mile. 'If you're scared of something, remove the mystery. I studied human transmutation so I wouldn't be too stupid to act if I came across it again.' He shrugged dismissively. 'Read enough of anything and suddenly you're an expert.'

Roy struggled not to glance over at Hughes, knowing he was not the only one impressed by the straightforward nature of Ed's lie. It was perfect: based in truth and embellished just enough to add realism without risking getting caught in an intricate web of detail. He could tell from the atmosphere in the room that Anders believed it; she was absently nodding her head, and Warner cleared his throat, breaking eye contact to look down at the papers in front of him.

'I suppose that means you're perfectly educated to put these arrays to good use. It's a bit convenient that there's a killer using people in his alchemy and the military has a handy “leading authority” on the subject.' Warner's grin was shark-like, and Roy tensed as the next words hissed through the air. 'For all we know, you're just like Tucker: a murderer.'

It was a deliberate jab, something to incite Ed's anger, and Roy shifted his weight, watching for the inevitable explosion. Gold eyes flashed, the shock bleeding away as the remark struck up sparks, lighting the fuse of Ed's fury, but he remained still: incredibly, frighteningly calm. Roy was glad he was not in Warner's shoes, because all of Ed's loathing and disrespect was focussed on the arrogant police officer, and the older man was wilting under the weight of that disdain.

'I wouldn't need five tries to get it right,' Ed muttered, wielding the obvious facts like a weapon. 'Whoever did this didn't know what they were doing at first. It's been copied from something, and then modern alchemy has been added to enhance the design.' Ed's gaze flickered to Roy, then to Hughes, and Roy did not miss the meaningful edge to his gaze. This was for their benefit as much as that of the police. Whoever did this, Ed had clearly labelled them as a high-level threat. 'No trained alchemist would be stupid enough to risk mixing alchemy bases: it's too unstable. Either this guy doesn't know what he's doing, or he doesn't care that it could do us all a favour and kill him too.'

Warner leaned back in his chair, picking through the files in front of him and collecting together the glossy photographs. He pinched them between finger and thumb and flicked them over the tabletop, letting them skid to a halt in front of Ed. 'You can make excuses all you want, Major, but that does not change the fact that you know the victims. They're all familiar to you. One you recognised from nothing but a piece of second-rate body art.' The man's top lip curled in a sneer, and Roy could see him narrowing his eyes. 'What exactly was your relationship with Greg Sanders?'

The change in Ed's body language was noticeable, and uncertainty crawled up Roy's spine. Ed angry was something he could handle, but this – hurt with a faint edge of embarrassment – was not a mix of emotions he was used to seeing on that attractive face.

Ed kept his eyes lowered, watching the tabletop before finally lifting his head to skewer Warner with another glare, jaw working as he ground out his answer.

'We were lovers.'

Surprise jangled through Roy's body, shrill and alarming, and he had to force it aside as he realised the enormity of what Ed was saying. One of the victims was more than a passing acquaintance or even a friend. The connection there was strong and undeniable. Not only did that mean that Ed was probably hurting more than Roy had realised, but Warner would twist something simple and straightforward for his own purposes without hesitation.

He wished there was something he could say, anything, that could get Ed out of here. The brat might be immature and a thorn in his side half-the-time, but he did not deserve to have his relationship turned against him in a half-hearted pursuit of the truth. Already, Warner was looking at Ed as if he had just handed over a grand prize, and a cruel edge sharpened his features.

'Lovers?' he repeated, his voice dripping with something vile. 'It's amazing that you did not think it necessary to mention that earlier, Major. It's not just victims of opportunity now, is it? So what happened? Did he cheat on you – break it off? What did he do that you had to kill him for?'

'Nothing.' The snarl rumbled low and threatening in Ed's throat. 'I never hurt Greg. We broke up about a month ago because he had a dream job lined-up in Creta.'

Warner was on his feet, hands on the table and leaning into Ed's personal space. His face had gone an ugly shade of red as he hissed, 'What, he wasn't worth the distance to you, faggot?'

'Officer Warner!'

Anders' shocked reprimand sounded like it was coming from a distance as anger's fire collided with chilly shock in Roy's veins. He fought not to visibly jerk in surprise as his jaw tightened and a growl tried to scratch its way up its throat. Moving with a slow, calm grace, he pressed a hand to Warner's shoulder, easing him away from Ed. His glove was stark white against the dark policeman's uniform, the arrays etched on the back like blood on bandages, and he watched Warner's eyes flicker to Roy's other hand, still tensed, not to punch, but to snap and ignite.

'Never say that word again,' Roy ordered, allowing all his military training to enforce his command. It did not matter if Warner was beyond his control as a police officer; as a man, the bigot would know he was facing down a superior in both strength and power. On some level, Roy's words would leave a mark.

And if they did not, then Roy could at least say he warned the fool before burning him to nothing but ash.

'Are you threatening me, Brigadier-General?' It would have sounded better if Warner's voice had not squeaked on the last syllable, and Roy raised one eyebrow, managing to convey with merely his expression that Warner was not worth such extremes.

'Officer Warner, that's enough.' Anders voice sounded like the boom of leaden doors, a far cry from the meek femininity her appearance might suggest. Her entire stance bristled with shock and indignation, and she waved a hand dismissively towards the corridor. 'You're clutching at straws and have gained nothing but circumstantial evidence. Do something useful. Get out there and go over the crime scenes again. Find something you missed, and maybe then we can get to putting the real criminal away.'

'But – but what about the interrogation?' Warner waved a hand towards Ed, who still sat rigid and angry in the chair on the other side of the table. Roy could almost feel the rage radiating off of him, and he knew that if Ed had met Warner in an alley somewhere, the man would be carrying his teeth home in his prissy officer's cap.

'I'll finish questioning the major,' Anders replied, reaching out to yank open the door and gesturing out into the corridor. 'We will discuss disciplinary proceedings when you return.'

Warner looked sick with rage, his expression twisted and cold, but Roy knew as well as any policeman that the civilian forces had strict ethical codes to follow. Slurs of any kind, sexual or racial, were severely punished: not for reasons of equality, but because verbal abuse from an officer was ammunition for a defendant's lawyer, and more than one judge had thrown out a case based on the poor conduct of the investigating police.

Roy stepped back before Warner could knock his hand away, resuming his position as interested observer as the man stalked away, slamming the door in its frame hard enough to knock the dust off the light bulb overhead in a grimy little shower. Anders swept it off the files with a flick of her hand and perched in the chair, letting out a huff of a sigh before looking up to meet Ed's eyes.

'I'm sorry for Warner's behaviour, Major Elric,' she said quietly. 'You showed remarkable self-restraint. You could have easily thrown a punch.'

'And he could have thrown me in a cell,' Ed replied in a flat voice, leaning back in his chair. His shoulders were still rounded, and a tight frown pinched his brow as he asked, 'What else do you need to know?'

'Everything. If it's all right with you, I'd like to start with the victims.'

After Ed's quiet agreement, the questions came thick and fast. It was obvious that Anders was aiming to gather information rather than incriminate Ed. She wrote everything down diligently, going through each murdered individual and assigning a level of proximity to Ed.

At some point, Hughes left the room to get them both chairs, and Roy accepted the offered seat blindly, sitting down as he listened to what Ed was saying. Normally Ed was an open book, but the sheer volume of emotion on his face was overwhelming, and as they moved on towards the two latest murders, both far too close to Ed for comfort, his distinctive features darkened further.

'Jo's just a neighbour,' he said quietly. 'Bit older than us, lives upstairs.' He grimaced before correcting himself. 'Or used to, anyway. She said she was going to visit her parents – maybe a couple of weeks ago? She wasn't expected back for a while.'

'Was anyone looking after her apartment for her?'

Ed shook his head. 'There was nothing to take care of: no plants, no pets. She just locked the door and went. Didn't her parents miss her?'

Anders shook her head, running her tongue over her teeth as she flicked back through the file. 'Apparently they received a phone-call from Jo before she was due to arrive, saying she had to cancel because of work. When pressed about the tone of the phone-call and asked if there was anything unusual, all they could say was that she sounded happy.' She sighed, closing the file. 'Now you can see why this case is causing us such difficulty. None of the victims were reported missing, even though some appear to have been imprisoned weeks before their murder.'

Roy saw her fingers hesitate over the final file, slimmer than the others, and he had no doubt that it was the folder that contained all they had on Greg. He did not miss the way her eyes flickered to Ed as if asking permission, or the softness in her voice as she said, 'Mr Saunders was the last victim found. He had a medical bracelet, so we were able to identify him, but we have not found any next of kin.'

'He didn't have any,' Ed said at last. 'No siblings, and his parents were killed in a train wreck a few years back. No grandparents or distant family, either.' His fists clenched on the table, and sadness clutched at Roy's heart as he saw the open wound of guilt on Ed's face. 'I was the only one who should have missed him, and I didn't. He was taking the long way to Creta and didn't know when he'd be near a phone again. In the end I just assumed he was being absent-minded like always and had forgotten.'

'You said the relationship ended,' Anders asked quietly. 'Was it amicable?'

That was a loaded question, and Roy pursed his lips. In his experience, no lovers parted without experiencing some disappointment or pain. There was always someone who had not seen the end, or who wished they could ignore the dark clouds of failure on the horizon. If nothing else, there should be a flutter of sadness at the dissolution of the bond, even if it never went beyond the physical.

'We didn't fight, if that's what you mean.' Ed's folded arms tightened as if he were trying to brace himself against something. 'He couldn't stay, and I couldn't go with him. We both knew it was best to just say goodbye, but it doesn't mean either us were happy about how it turned out.'

Anders nodded, fiddling with her pencil as she continued to ask her gentle, steady questions, and Roy and Hughes were left to watch Ed answer as best he could.

More than once, Roy wondered if Ed regretted asking them to be there. After all, Ed's sexuality was not common knowledge. Alphonse probably knew, simply because the thought of Ed hiding anything from his little brother was unbelievable, but other than that...

Discretion was necessary. Roy had learned that lesson the hard way. Warner was not exactly unique in his bigoted views, and for every person with an open mind, there were a dozen more willing to spread hate and violence on anyone who did not meet the social norm. It was no wonder Ed had not made it public, even among Roy's command, and now he was given no choice as Anders' queries continued on a personal vein.

Roy did not think he could have been so honest in the same position, yet every response Ed gave was truthful. Roy had seen Fullmetal try to lie his way through enough reports to know the signs of a lie, but now there was nothing to hint that Ed was fabricating his answers.

Time crept onwards, unmarked in the bland, windowless room. Roy's stomach was growling and he was stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, but he could not even consider leaving, even for a moment. He was uncomfortably aware that this was the longest he had heard Ed talk about something other than alchemy or assignments in the entire time that they had known each other, and it was a goldmine of information.

Not that Roy would stoop so low as to use it as ammunition. Ed may drive him to distraction, but there were some things that had no place in the battlefield of dispute, particularly information that Ed would never have trusted him with in the first place.

A pang of sadness echoed beneath Roy's ribs, but he pushed it aside. He may be friends with his other men, as much as rank would allow, but Ed was another matter entirely: too unpredictable and infuriating by far. He seemed to go out of his way to set Roy on edge, and where others barely touched Roy's ironclad control, Fullmetal always made the reins on his temper strain and creak. He shouted and yelled, had no respect for Roy's authority or the military in general, and for someone so intelligent, he was too eager to let his emotions rule.

He and Ed were almost polar opposites, light and dark, passionate and controlled. There was no common ground between them, and that made any friendship impossible. Ed would never openly tell him the intricacies of his life, and now Roy almost felt like an eavesdropper, overhearing things he had no right to know, even if it was Ed who had demanded his presence in the first place.

With a sigh, Anders closed the last file and steepled her hands in front of her as she looked at Ed. Her face was caught in the harsh lines of confusion and concern, and Roy could see that her entire body was tense. Her voice, hoarse from asking questions for hours, was little more than a whisper as she let out sigh and began to speak.

'Major, I don't think you're a suspect, and I doubt Warner will find anything at the scenes to change that, but I cannot deny you are somehow connected to this case.' She pursed her lips, straightening up as she collected the files together. 'You may not be the killer, but it's not beyond the realms of possibility that you could be an intended victim. I'd like you to remain in protective custody.'

'What? No.' Ed was already shaking his head, his jaw set in a stubborn line, and Roy struggled not to roll his eyes at the refusal. Trust Fullmetal to ignore his personal safety. 'I can look after myself, and I want to go home to my brother. I don't need to be locked up in a cell and kept safe!'

'Yes, you do,' Roy said calmly, watching Ed's anger flare. A frisson of relief darted down his spine to see that familiar heat, and he set his expression into his normal commanding mask 'Stay here tonight, Fullmetal, that's an order. Tomorrow, we'll come up with a reason to put you under military protection, if that's all right with you, Deputy Inspector?'

Anders nodded as Ed choked and fumed, but Roy was not about to change his mind. He was not an idiot. Ed was taking this personally, and if Roy let him out into the city, then he would simply dive into searching for the murderer himself. Roy had no wish to see Ed succumb to the same gruesome death as the others. Whoever was doing this was resourceful, and Ed may not be as helpless, but that did not mean he was safe.

'Ed, we'll watch out for Al, and someone will come and pick you up tomorrow. You're not to leave here alone, do I make myself clear?'

It was probably only Anders' presence that stopped Ed from flipping Roy the finger, and the anger in his voice was plain as he growled, 'Yes, _sir_.'

'We'll make sure he's comfortable, and I'll let you know if anything else relevant to the major comes up overnight,' Anders said, getting to her feet and opening the door to the interrogation room. The station beyond was bustling with the shift change, and she pointed down the corridor towards the way out. 'I'd appreciate it if you could remain discreet about this. My commander is not aware I've asked for military help, and I doubt he'll be impressed.'

'Of course, Camilla,' Hughes said with a smile, nudging Roy out into the corridor. 'Look after Ed for us.'

'I'll leave my number at the desk. If he gives you any trouble, just call me,' Roy added, not missing Ed's hissed “Fucker” from within the interrogation room. 'Behave yourself, Fullmetal.'

'Not a kid, Mustang!' Ed retorted in a voice that sounded like it was promising broken bones. Roy heard a brief growl of anger and frustration before he and Hughes walked back down the corridor and out of earshot. They pushed their way through the throng of police officers, ducking their way through the crowd before finally stepping out into the crystal cool air of the city.

Neither of them said a word as Roy led the way down the street, listening to the clock chime five in the afternoon. His mind scrambled as he tried to accommodate the loss of his day, and it was no wonder he was hungry. Lunch had not happened, and now dinner was fast-approaching, although whether the circling chitter of his concerns would let him eat was another matter.

'He didn't kill anyone,' Hughes said quietly, and Roy glanced over his shoulder at his friend. 'You know that as well as I do.'

'Of course I do, and if the murderer strikes again tonight, then at least Ed's in a jail cell with an air-tight alibi.' Roy toyed with the watch in his pocket. 'I don't like any of this.'

'Neither do I.' Hughes sighed, glancing towards the setting sun before reaching out and patting Roy on the shoulder. 'The facts don't make sense, and what dodgy evidence is available seems to point to Ed as the murderer, but we both know that can't be true.' He shook his head as if trying to cast his doubts away. 'Look, I'll go and tell Al what's going on. I know we're meant to be discreet, but Al won't rest until he knows the truth. You go home. Get something to eat, and start working out how we're going to explain Ed needing a twenty-four hour bodyguard to the military.'

Roy knew a friendly order when he heard it, and he nodded his thanks to Hughes. 'Tell Al we have everything under control. He'll understand as long as he realises we're putting Ed's safety first. I'd feel better if someone from my command was with Fullmetal, but that's not an option for us tonight – not without raising suspicion.' Part of Roy thought it would be worth the inevitable questions to make sure Ed was safe, not just from potential killers, but from his own actions; however, a balance had to be struck. First thing tomorrow, he would find a way to make sure Ed was safe under the watchful eyes of his command at all times, even if that meant leashing the brat to his desk.

'Will do. Goodnight, Roy. Call me if you hear anything new.' With a quick wave of his hand, Hughes was gone, striding off down the street towards the apartment the Elrics shared. It was not a long walk, and Roy was confident that Hughes would be home to Gracia and a warm meal within the hour. He, on the other hand, had to cook his own dinner, and his stomach growled impatiently as he turned towards home.

It was easy to lose himself in his thoughts as he walked, letting his footsteps set the rhythm of his mind. Part of him could see why Ed's situation had aroused the suspicion of the police, and it was far easier to see Fullmetal, strong and capable, as an attacker than a victim. Roy had seen Ed at both the best and worst moments of his life, but glimpses of Ed's rare fragility still shocked him to the core. When Roy had first walked into that interrogation room, Ed had been like a doll, blank and shocked. Even at the end, when his anger had returned, it had seemed more frail and edgy than usual, lacking some of its usual bite.

Ed would bounce back, he always did, but Roy had begun to notice that every time the world knocked Ed down, he was finding it harder to get up again. There was only so much abuse one man could take from destiny before he turned his back on it all. The military contract that bound Ed to Roy's command still had a year left on it, and the creeping fear that Ed simply would not last that long was no stranger to Roy. Fullmetal was far from weak, but even the strongest things could be ground to dust over time. Roy had tried to make life easier for him, especially since Al had been returned to his body, but sometimes it seemed like the world had other ideas for the oldest Elric.

Turning the corner onto his street, Roy paused, dragged from his reverie by the faint prickle of instinct. Watching his back was second nature, and something, some subtle edge to the air, warned him of danger. Feigning indifference, he scanned the familiar road, glancing over his shoulder at the empty pavement. There were no people, no cars and no lingering shadows – only the setting sun and, flickering to life one by one, the streetlamps. Houses had their windows lit, curtains painting gauzy colours along the row of houses, and a dog barked nearby as a cat darted away. There was nothing unusual in this familiar neighbourhood, but Roy could not shake his faint unease.

Reaching into his pocket, he freed his keys from the folds of the fabric, subtly bracing his spare hand ready to snap up a spark. His boots tapped on the steps up to his front door, and the lock tumbled open with decisive finality, admitting him into the sanctuary of his home. The air was peaceful, and nothing seemed out of place. His house was as he had left it, and Roy let out a sigh. All this talk of murder must have set him more on edge than he had thought.

Walking through into the living room, he clicked his fingers, letting the fire grow in the grate as golden light danced up the walls. His fingers slipped over the buttons of his coat, and he shrugged out of both the black fabric and the uniform jacket beneath, striding over to his office chair and draping them over the back.

Something drifted against his cheek, and Roy blinked at the curtain billowing faintly in the breeze. It waved like a banner of innocence, calm and beguiling, catching his attention for a split-second too long before the alarm bells began to shriek in his head. He always closed the windows before he left in the morning, always, so why was this one open?

A strong arm clamped around his shoulders, pinning his arms to his side and holding him in place as if he were nothing more than a child. There was no violence, no choking grasp or punishing blow, just a damp cloth pressed hard over Roy's nose and mouth, blocking off his first shout of anger and surprise.

Instinct meant he took a breath before he had a chance to think otherwise, and his mouth filled with a sickly sweet taste. Muscles, taut and ready to fight, seemed to melt, and his coordination faded, leaving his fingers clumsy and useless. He batted pathetically at the arm that held him in some gruesome mimicry of an embrace, but it was useless. The man behind him was at least the size of Armstrong, bull-strong and as immovable as a wall.

Logical thought fell away like beads scattering from a broken necklace, and the darkness tingeing Roy's vision bled inwards. Someone lifted him, adding to the world's giddy waltz, and, before oblivion took him, a few words of accented Amestrian fell into Roy's ears.

'I am sorry.'


	3. Chapter 3

One day, Ed was going to make Mustang pay for being such a superior shit. He should have known that asking for help would be more trouble than it was worth, but he had not quite realised it would end in this: being locked in a cell like a bad dog sent to its kennel.

He glared at the bland ceiling, trying to ignore the mattress springs poking him in the back. There was no time for this! He should be out there looking after his little brother, not stuck in here for his own good. What the hell was Mustang playing at, anyway? Did he think Ed could not take care of himself? It made no sense that the git was happy to throw Ed's life into danger on every damn assignment but here, in the city he called home, Ed was being kept under lock and key...

Rolling over onto his side, he took a deep breath, trying to cling to his anger, but Roy had made that difficult for him. Ed was not sure what he had expected from his commanding officer – a lecture, perhaps, or at the very least some kind of disappointment at Ed finding himself in police custody – but Mustang had been strangely understanding.

If he had any doubts about Ed's innocence, he had never once let them show on his face. Calm and collected as always, Ed did not think he had seen Roy twitch throughout the entire interrogation, except, of course, when Warner had called Ed a faggot. He had heard worse muttered in the military canteen over the years, but that did not stop rage from simmering in Ed's veins at the slur. It had probably only been Roy's sudden movement that had stopped Ed from dealing Warner a more physical punishment, regardless of the consequences.

Ed scowled, letting his gaze fall to the grey linoleum floor as he turned the incident over in his mind. He could grudgingly admit that Mustang was an honourable man, most of the time. He might not think twice about manipulating other people for his own gain, but he did not tolerate abuse in any form. Warner had clearly pushed one of Roy's buttons, and the result was that: a low voiced warning and the air sharp with the scent of sparks and anger.

A shiver worked its way through Ed's body, and he clenched his jaw tight. He was used to seeing Mustang's masks, but he had caught a glimpse of his profile in that moment, and there was nothing shielded about his expression. Roy had looked at Warner with total disdain, but why? The reaction did not fit the smug persona that he knew so well, and every second spent thinking about that flash of emotion on Roy's face only raised more questions in Ed's mind.

Not that he had any answers. Mustang had always been as confusing as hell: that had not changed over the years, and today was no different. When he had asked for help, Ed had known he was opening himself up to a whole world of possible reactions. He had imagined that Mustang would be smug and scathing, but instead he had been met with calm sympathy and open faith. Neither Hughes nor Roy had looked as if they believed Warner's stupid suspicions for even a moment, and a pathetic coil of grieving gratitude unfurled beneath Ed's ribs.

It was impossible to stop his mind from drifting back over the jarring shock of the day, and he surrendered himself to the helpless bite of his guilt. People were dead, and not just anyone. Those who started out as nameless, faceless strangers were suddenly all too familiar, and Ed's chest hurt as his memories churned over his mind's eye, encapsulating each victim before finally settling on Greg. Something caught in his chest, but he stifled it down, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he sucked in a deep breath.

Denial was a useless temptation. He could shut his eyes and pretend that Greg was still alive in Creta, talking and laughing as their relationship slowly faded to a happy memory, but he would just be lying to himself. Anders had shown him the mortuary photograph, but Ed had not needed to see Greg's face. The tattoo was distinctive. As soon as he had set eyes on it, his heart had staggered into a rhythm of sick pain that had not faded since that moment.

Ed swallowed tightly, blinking his dry eyes. There were not any tears – not yet and not here. The police were watching him from the desk outside the cell, guns on their belts and faces impassive, and there was no way he was breaking down in front of their indifference. However, just because the mind said one thing, it did not mean the body obeyed, and Ed swallowed against the knot in his throat, reminding himself fiercely that grown men did not cry.

He tried to think about something else – anything – but it was useless. He was stuck in a spiral, powerless to fight the current, and he ground his forehead into the mattress. Not many people had known about him and Greg. He had told Al, who appeared to have figured it out anyway, but other than that Ed had kept his love life private, until now, anyway.

Inwardly, he cringed, wishing it had not come to this. It was one thing to explain his sexuality to his brother of his own free will, but in an interrogation it was a choiceless action. The police were strangers, meaningless, even now, but Mustang and Hughes were another matter. He would have to face them more days than not. He would have to stand in front of them both and hold his head high, trying so hard not to care what they might think while, even now, the anger was there, sharp and bright.

Maybe they would both keep quiet about it, but things slipped out, and Ed did not think it would be long before Roy's command knew the truth. He doubted any of them would give him trouble about it, but that was not the point. The thought of people judging him, even in the privacy of their own heads, was enough to make his teeth clench painfully tight.

Like it was anyone's fucking business who he shared a bed with.

He had nothing to be ashamed of. What he and Greg had shared was good – the most “good” Ed had known since he was a kid – and maybe it was not love and maybe it could not last, but that did not make it meaningless. Not to him, anyway. They had shared more than just a bed and sex. They had shared their lives for a little while, and how could anyone say that was wrong? How could anyone say that connection was something to hide?

_It could have been what killed him. He died because of you._

Whispering suspicion filled his head, and Ed sucked in a breath as he tried to force his mind into silence. Nausea sat heavy in his stomach, and when the police offered him a bland, basic meal, the smell almost made him gag. He declined it as politely as he could manage, but they left in there anyway, and he had to roll over and bury his nose in the thin pillow to escape the stench of meat and greasy gravy.

He did not want to be here. It was like a nightmare come to life: the world going to shit outside and here he was locked up and helpless to do anything about it. Ed had already failed Greg through ignorance. If he had just known about the danger then maybe he could have stopped it. Maybe Greg would still be alive now, rather than a cold, lifeless body in the morgue.

Ed got to his feet, too restless to remain still any longer. He prowled the confines of his so-called sanctuary, trying to hold it together while the police watched his every move. Just because Anders said he was not a suspect did not mean her men believed her. Ed had noticed Warner talking to the guards about an hour ago, his voice low and his eyes flat with disgust. Ed doubted Warner had been giving him a glowing recommendation, and he suspected any false move would result in tighter restrictions on his “protective custody”.

It was tempting to break out. One quick clap and the door would be dust, but there was still the matter of the police keeping watch. The guns on their belts were not just decoration, and Ed was not willing to bet his life on the hope that they would hesitate to shoot him. He was no good to anyone with a bullet in his head, and that left him with no option but to wait for the morning.

Patience had never been one of his strengths, and he clenched his hands into helpless fists as he paced from one wall to the other. Bricks and bars made up his horizons, and all he could think was that somewhere, someone he knew could be facing their last minutes of life because of him. This killer was picking on people Ed knew, but why? If they had a problem with him – and Ed had made enough enemies over his years in the military for that to be a sure thing – then why not kill him and be done with it?

Ed hesitated, scuffing his boots on the floor as he tried to force his brain to cooperate. Lingering on what had gone wrong and who had suffered had never done him any good in the past. If he had given in to the dark pit of his emotions when he had lost Al all those years ago, then he would never have found a way to bring his brother back. He could not do the same thing for Greg, or for anyone else who had died because of him, but maybe he could make sure that the person responsible got their equivalent exchange.

He had seen enough murders to know that most were personal. It was always about love or hate, passion, revenge, or some messed up sense of mercy, but this did not seem to fit that bill. Death in alchemy's name was something different – it always had been, and Ed knew that was what these killings were about. All the reasons and the motives would be locked up like treasures within the design. If he could look at it again, then maybe he could find something he had missed.

Something that told him not only how the victims had died, but why.

That simple answer had never mattered to him before now. In the past, he had always strived to understand the array, not the person who had activated it. This time was different; now it mattered, because nothing could convince Ed that coincidence was responsible for the people who had died. No way had pure chance plucked five lives he knew and put them to an end, so who was it? Who could be doing this, and what did they hope to achieve?

There was no answer. In the silence of his mind, the array unfurled again, charting itself out from its humble origins to the complex glory of the final piece. His memory had always been perfect when it came to remembering transmutation circles, and Ed leaned back against the wall of his cell as he stared at the vision only he could see. Every line was there for him to examine, and a shiver rushed down his spine as a soft suspicion grew into a firm certainty.

Whoever was doing this was practising. They wanted a flawless array, and they needed test-subjects to help them achieve that goal. Greg might have been the last body the police had found, but he would not be the last to feel the killer's knife. Whoever was doing this was not finished yet: almost, but not quite. The flow of the design was jagged and flawed; Ed could see that even as he struggled to understand its purpose. There would be at least one more trial run before the array was ready for its final target.

Ed did not need to be a genius to figure out the truth: the finished design would be meant for him. Why else would the killer take people he knew? Whoever did this had to know that he was the expert on human transmutation – they had to suspect he would see it one day. Did they think he would admire their work, or were they hoping he would see it as fair warning?

'Stop it,' Ed hissed to himself, jerking his head a little as he saw one of the cops narrow her eyes at him. Fear was like a knife in his side, and he sagged uselessly, hunkering down on the floor as he tried to get a grip on the slither of his paranoia. There could be another reason for the choice of victims, some underlying link that he could not see. Dwelling on it was only chipping away at his sanity.

Tomorrow morning he would be out of here – free to protect those he loved and track this sick bastard down. For now, all he could do was get through the night.

That was easier said than done. Every passing moment in this box-like cell felt like an eternity, and a cold sweat broke out across Ed's skin as the walls seemed to close-in further. Hastily, he dug the heels of his hands against his eyes before looking up at the tiny barred window. A faint breeze drifted in, raising goose bumps on his arm. The moon was up, and the night seemed dark and grim. How long had he been in here? It felt like years already: time turned eternal by his anxiety and impatience. It had to be nearly midnight. The thought of sleep was laughable, but what else was there?

Nothing.

The two police outside his cell stood up, their posture changing from languid to alert as heavy footsteps approached. Max moved across the hallway like a glacier, slow but unstoppable, and Ed watched as the massive man bent his head to say something in accented Amestrian. Ed did not catch the words, but he saw the two men share a baffled glance before nodding their heads and scurrying away.

Three heartbeats later, the world went to hell.

Silent air exploded in a roaring din of gunfire. Shouts and desperate cries echoed along the corridors. People were slamming doors, and Ed could make out the stampede of running feet before there was a sound of breaking glass and the distinct “whoomph” of a fire bursting to life.

The lights went out, quick as a snuffed-out life, and Ed scrambled towards the bars, his fingers wrapping around the cool metal as arrays flashed across his mind. He could smell dirty, noxious smoke. Now it was just a scent in the air, but how long did he have before it became too thick to breathe? He had to get out of here.

On the other side of the room, the distant mouth of the doorway was lit with the eerie dance of fire. For all he knew that way out was blocked, and he looked back over his shoulder at the high window and thick, grimy wall that stood between him and freedom.

No problem.

Staggering towards the centre of the cell, he glanced over his shoulder at the dark room behind him. He could explain it to the police later, but there was no way he was staying here like a rat in a trap waiting to die. Whatever was going on out there sounded painful and violent, but it was not his fight, and he had bigger problems to deal with.

A movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn, and Ed frowned as he realised that a shadow had eclipsed the fluttering glow of the blaze. He thought all of the police had fled towards the sound of gunfire, but belatedly he realised he had never actually seen Max leave. Had he been standing there in the dark all along?

Something clanked and clattered before the graunch of metal across the floor echoed in Ed's ears. The cell door opened, a brief, steely glimmer in the dark before it slammed shut once more. Ed's hands went together instinctively, the clap and glow of his alchemy casting off the shackles of the night and sending shadows dancing across the walls.

Max's face was cast into sudden relief. There should have been something there, some kind of panic or fear, but his expression was as impassive as it had been earlier that day. Only the sweat amidst the bristles of his short hair showed any sign of discomfort, and Ed swallowed nervously, trying to understand the shrilling alarms of his instincts.

'We need to get out of here,' Ed said slowly, frowning as Max said nothing in response. He did not even move, just stood there as if he was waiting for some kind of order to do otherwise. Smoke was stinging at Ed's eyes now, and he ducked his head as he turned towards the wall. 'Do whatever you fuckin' want, then, but I'm going. There's no way anyone can say I'm safer in here than out there.'

The array solidified in his mind with crystal clarity, and Ed felt the familiar rush of power as the wall crumbled away, leaving a hole big enough for even Max to get through. The cool air rushed in, sweeping his hair back from his face and whistling in his ears. Perhaps if it were not for that, he would have heard the threat before it was too late, but freedom deafened him, and a heavy arm wrapped around his chest like an iron bar.

Something pressed hard over Ed's mouth, and his nose filled with a sickly sweet fragrance that reminded him of hospitals. Instinct took over where his brain fell apart, and he twisted away, lashing out with his left boot blindly as he stumbled on the rubble. An inarticulate snarl of warning rumbled in his throat as he tried to steady himself, scraping his left palm to blood on the shattered wall, but it was all he could manage.

Everything wavered like a mirage, and his shaking knees threatened to dump him on the ground. A couple of seconds inhaling whatever was on that rag, and he was good for nothing. Blinking frantically, he tried to see straight, but it was no good. Max was stationary, but the rest of the room swirled drunkenly like water circling the drain.

The big man did not try to restrain him again. He merely folded the cloth neatly, placing it in his pocket before lifting his eyes to Ed's face once more: waiting. Ed tried to growl a question, but his tongue would not move and his voice came out as a choked off crack of sound. A dry heave bent him double, making his head spin and pound as his empty stomach convulsed.

This time the hands on his shoulders were softer and more reverent, picking him up carefully as he was slung over Max's massive shoulders. He might as well have been a child to the big man, and even the solid pound of his automail fist into Max's back did nothing. He did not even grunt, and Ed wished he had eaten dinner if only for the satisfaction of puking down the bastard's back.

'Geroff,' he managed to slur, but it was like a kitten's mewl, so pathetic he wished it had never found voice in the first place. Every last scrap of his mind that had not dissolved was screaming at him to fight, but his body was beyond cooperation. He could only groan miserably at the swaying ground as the blood rushed to his head and his vision blurred and dipped.

Numb fingers curled in the black cloth of Max's police uniform, and Ed tried to breathe slow and steady, barely hanging on to consciousness. Part of him was aware that he was being treated gently – unlike any abduction he had previously experienced – but the _fucker_ , could have been the one who had killed the others. Jo and Greg could both be gone because of him, and Ed's anger sparked and smouldered like wet gunpowder as he forced himself to struggle, no matter how useless it was.

'Please remain still, My Lord. I do not wish to hurt you.'

The words clattered through Ed's aching skull, jagged and almost incomprehensible, and he tried to grasp them as Max turned into a narrow alley, hurrying ever further away from the police station. No one stopped them, and Ed groaned as he realised it was probably too late at night for most of Central's citizens to be out on the streets. It was mid-week; people would be thinking of work, rather than play. Besides, who was going to have the guts to stop a guy like Max from doing whatever he wanted?

Ed tried to clap and bring the automail blade to life, because stabbing someone in the kidneys was sure to make them think twice, but his brain was too fogged to cooperate, and the brief glow of alchemy faded to nothing as his awareness dipped further into shadow. It was like every sense was closing itself down. Vision, already blurry, was reduced to nothing but streaks of grey stone and distant, mellow street light, and with every turn Max took Ed's head spun faster and faster, dragging him down into a vortex of miserable gloom.

He was still awake and aware, but only just, and the world passed as if in a dream. Boots clattered on stone as the breeze ghosted around him, telling its own story of speed. Time slipped by, meaningless to Ed's addled mind, but at last he was jostled on Max's shoulder. Steps, he realised, heading downwards, but only a few, and Max's shoulder flexed as he banged his fist against something – a door, a wall, something like that.

Metal creaked. Fresh air faded, nothing more than a distant memory as perfume tickled Ed's nose. It was like summer flowers, bright and enticing, but he could not even begin to lift his head and find the source. The light was more uncertain here, and for a minute he thought they had ended up back at the blazing police station, but there was no sound of gunfire. Here it was peaceful and quiet, hushed, as if the world beyond and the freedom it offered were a million miles away.

Ed blinked down at the floor, absently noticing that the clean grey stone had given way to smooth tiles. They looked expensive, alternating in a black and white chequerboard that made his head throb all the more. None were cracked, and not a trace of grime sullied the surface except the prints left behind by Max's boots.

'I have him, Holiness.'

The deep voice rumbled through Max's back and into Ed's ribs, jolting him back from the brink of darkness. He tightened his grip on the jacket again – it was all he had the power to do – and focussed the last draining vestiges of his strength on listening to what was being said. “Holiness” meant a priest, and Ed's rebellious stomach churned anew. Alchemists were crazy enough without religion on their side, but all the clues were pointing in that direction. The voices echoed, making Ed think of some of the temples he had seen, and the smell could be incense. Even the calm of the air took on a new, darker twist: expectant.

'As I knew you would, my son. I had no doubt in you.' The voice was soft and kind, barely more than a whisper. Ed almost did not hear it over the soft pad of bare feet on the tiled floor. 'Let me see him.'

Smooth fingertips touched Ed's chin, lifting his head with little effort, and he struggled to focus on the man in front of him. He wore plain, dove grey robes with gold embroidery around the collar, but his clothes were little more than a flicker of colour across Ed's awareness. Despite the drug thickening his head with its lingering fumes, it was the man's face that filled his vision.

It did not belong to anyone of faith; no priest had that many scars. They crossed his cheeks, not quite symmetrical enough to be deliberate, carving puckered lines diagonally across from his ears towards his mouth. His nose had been broken and never healed straight, and his brown hair, only faintly peppered with white, was cropped close.

The man withdrew his hands, pressing them to his forehead reverently before bowing low. 'You were not mistaken, my son,' he said to Max, looking over his hands at Ed like a child peeking at something amazing. 'He is the one we have been looking for. I had my doubts we would see this day, but now...' The priest shook his head, lifting his eyes towards the ceiling before he straightened up, pursing his lips happily. 'Take him upstairs and have him prepared. I think we shall be ready for him by the dawn.'

Those words coated Ed's skin in cold steel, seeping into his bones and dragging back the veil of confusion from his mind. His teeth clenched as his lips twisted into something feral, but though the anger was there, his strength and coordination were a distant memory. Every thrash of his legs and coil of his spine was met by Max's stubborn strength. Heavy kicks got little more than a grunt of discomfort, and even slamming his automail elbow into the back of that thick skull had no effect.

Quickly, the priest moved, snatching up a cloth from beyond Ed's line of sight and tipping a clear liquid onto its weave. Ed tried to pull back, his fingers catching in the cloth of Max's uniform like claws as he scrabbled away, shaking his head furiously to escape, but it was no good. A massive hand settled on the nape of his neck, clenching hard enough that Ed could feel the promise of death in that grip.

This time, the drug was stronger. The clean, soft fabric did not even brush his skin before his nose was full of that choking stench. He tried not to breathe, cutting off his lungs until his face burned and bubbles popped across his vision, but it was useless. The drug seemed to permeate everything, coiling down his throat as soft, crooning words washed over him like a tide. Someone stroked the crown of his head reverently, and Ed's last twitch of outrage and repulsion was his undoing as he finally sank into vulnerable oblivion.

* * *

A melodic chime rang out across the city, filtering through the hissing silence of Ed's mind and plunging him back into the waking world. It was like falling through ice into freezing water, and Ed bolted upright, his stomach clenching as he gasped hard enough to gag on the air. Shivers dragged a muffled groan from his throat, and he closed his eyes tight as the glassy fragments of his memory steadily fell back into place.

Max had brought him here, to this freakish place where some kind of messed-up priest had given the order for Ed to “be prepared.” A glance down at himself was enough to fill in the blanks, and Ed shuddered as he plucked at the clothes that covered his body. He definitely had not been wearing white when he passed out, but now light cotton trousers hugged his hips and a white vest covered his chest, leaving his arms bare. His skin was greasy with some kind of oil, and the scent of flowers clung lovingly to his hair, which had been straightened back into a neat ponytail.

Whoever had done this was no longer in the room with him; he was alone, accompanied only by the glow of the lamps and the whisper of slippery, silken sheets that pooled around his waist. Quickly, Ed took in his surroundings, feeling the last of the drug haze slip from his mind as he noted every relevant detail.

The room was rich and well-furnished, with thick drapes covering the windows and dark mahogany furniture. A huge mirror was placed opposite the bed, and Ed gave it a critical look. Hughes had mirrors in the interrogation rooms that showed the prisoner a reflection but allowed an observer to watch from the other side. The priests probably did not have that kind of thing, but it was not until Ed slipped unsteadily from the bed and padded closer that his doubts fell silent. It was a normal pane, nothing more.

If he did not know otherwise, he would never have believed he was a prisoner. His room was full of objects that could be used as weapons, and there were no guards keeping watch. For fuck's sake, they had not even bothered to restrain him. Ed was not sure whether to be amused by their stupidity or insulted that they did not think he was a threat. He could get out of this room and back into the city in seconds. If nothing else, he could always climb out of the window...

Except that Ed knew more than one life was at stake tonight.

He might not understand people – might not get what the hell these idiots were trying to do – but he knew how to read alchemy. The priests were messing with powerful stuff, and the leader, the one Max had called “Holiness”, had said they would be ready for Ed by dawn.

Somewhere in this building, someone else was being used to give their design a final test before the main event. They could already be dead. All Ed knew for sure was that the victim would be someone he knew – someone who, if only for a moment, had shared in his life.

Looking towards the window, Ed saw darkness through the gap in the fabric. It was still night out there. Maybe he would be too late to rescue whoever the priests had in their clutches, but there was no way he could escape without at least trying. He had already failed Jo, Greg and the others. He was not about to add to the weight of that guilty sorrow by leaving someone else behind.

The carpet felt coarse under his bare right foot as he crept across the room, keeping his alchemy quiet as he clapped the automail blade into existence. It formed with the same ease as always, wickedly sharp, and Ed instinctively angled it to hack and slash anyone who might be waiting for him on the other side of the door.

Pressing his ear to the wood, Ed held his breath, trying to hear any sound from the other side, but all he could pick out was a distant droning noise. If anyone was out there, then they were being inhumanly quiet. Cautiously, he tried the handle, expecting to find the door locked, but the latch slipped free without any trouble. The hinges did not so much as whisper as Ed slipped across the threshold, and he frowned in confusion. This was far too easy. What was the point of kidnapping him if they were just going to let him go again?

Looking both ways along the corridor, he wrinkled his nose at the pervasive stench of the incense. It seemed to cling to everything, from the thick red carpet on the floor to the drapes covering the huge windows that pocked the wall opposite him. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal gleaming and well-polished. Each one was lit, stripping away the shadows and leaving Ed exposed as he headed towards the source of the monotonous droning sound.

The air was swollen with the noise, and it took Ed a moment or two to realise it was chanting. Dozens, maybe even a hundred voices in perfect unison, repeating the same words over and over again. He could not pick out what they were saying, but the low, ominous notes sent chills crawling up and down his spine and made his stomach tremble.

'Whole thing's giving me the creeps,' he whispered to himself, pressing his back to the wall as the corridor opened out onto what looked like a massive hallway. There were balustrades of white marble all the way around the gallery. To his right a wide, sweeping staircase cascaded to the floor, each step dotted with clusters of burning candles dribbling wax. Paintings lined the walls, watching with indifferent eyes, and Ed gave them a distrusting glance as he crept forward, almost on his hands and knees to avoid being seen as he peeked over the edge and into the huge room below.

For all that the rest of the building looked like a mansion, the ground floor could only be a church. The room was vast, stretching away like one of the military's banquet halls towards tall doors at the far end. The chequerboard tiles from earlier created a broad, dizzying border around the blank white centre, and a slab of polished black stone was positioned beneath a huge arched window full of plain glass.

Yet Ed barely paid attention to the dense trees beyond the panes. As if magnetised, his eyes were drawn to the glorious weave of lines and sigils, circles and etchings in the middle of the white floor. The array was enough to make his breath catch in his throat, but it was the man restrained in the centre that made his heart shudder with sick shock

Roy.

Questions rose like a tide as Ed stared, slack-jawed and stupid. This could not be real. He was hallucinating, delusional, dreaming... _something_ , because Mustang belonged behind a desk and wrapped in an immaculate uniform, not here, bare-chested and spread-eagled in the middle of an array. Ed was meant to be the one who fell from one disaster to the next and put his life on the line. He was meant to be the one who dealt with danger, not Roy. Not anymore.

Disbelief had turned Ed blind to anything but the scene below: figures in grey chanting as they put the finishing touches on the array on the floor, and Roy trapped in the middle, unconscious and oblivious to the fact he was about to die. Every heartbeat in Ed's chest felt too slow and unsteady, and his thoughts had turned into a screaming discord of anger and fear that deafened him to everything but the ceaseless noise.

He never heard the footsteps behind him, did not even sense another's presence until a shadow fell over him, blackening the marble. Slow instincts rushed into high-speed, and Ed spun around, crouched and snarling as he stabbed his arm forward. It was a fast, brutal strike, and he felt the resistance of flesh give way to hard bone as his automail blade slammed into Max's thigh.

For once, an expression buckled that impassive face. Pain was real and visceral, and Ed ducked a punch that would have sent him sprawling back into unconsciousness. He dodged under the big man's arm and broke into a sprint, his mind racing as he tried to think of some way to get both him and Roy out of this mess alive.

Down below, the chanting stopped, and a sea of whispers took its place, swarming like bees in Ed's ears. A few of the robed people darted up the stairs, clearly trying to cut Ed off, but he was faster, and he skidded past them. Bony fingers snagged at his vest, but the fabric slipped easily out of their grasp as he darted down one of the many corridors, flicking the light-switch as he went.

The darkness was instantaneous, and nothing but ghostly moonlight cast highlights over the walls. Ed threw open doors at random, not bothering to enter the rooms. He had to confuse his pursuers just long enough to find a second set of stairs. There was bound to be one somewhere, and if not, then he would make one. One clap, and he could get to the floor below, get Roy and get _out_.

As plans went, it was lacking a few key details, but he had always fared better when acting on impulse in the past. Now, Ed focused all his attention on the information of his senses as he turned another corner and pressed himself against the wall. Of course, they had dressed him in white. He stood out like a firework, so hiding in the shadows was not an option, but a few seconds to take stock could make the difference between escape and capture.

He could hear sounds of confusion, but his pursuers were not too stupid to turn the lights back on, and Ed bit his lip as he heard them methodically checking each room. Their patience did not bode well. If they thought it was possible for him to get away, they would be panicked and hurried. Instead, the priests behaved like adults hunting down a tiresome child, irritated but calm.

'My Lord!' a voice called, and Ed inched further along the corridor, grimacing as he recognised the leader's voice. Even shouting, it still sounded hushed and peaceful, setting Ed's teeth on edge. 'We did not restrain you out of respect, but please do not run from us, My Lord! We would not wish you harm.'

That was rich, coming from the lips of a murderer, and what was all the “My Lord” crap about? Ed shook his head, casting the question aside as he padded further away, searching alcoves for another way downstairs. He did not have much time, and he was almost certain the flash of alchemy would bring the priests to him at a sprint. He was used to fighting poor odds, but he knew when he was outnumbered. Besides, anything larger than a small transmutation risked interfering with the design coiled around Roy's body, and Ed did not dare to take that chance.

'Perhaps an incentive is required?' the leader asked, and Ed spun around as that sing-song voice fell into dark, harsh tones, carrying along the corridor and punctuated by steady footsteps. 'You are the best candidate, but there is another. If you do not cooperate, then your brother will take your place.' A laugh drifted over the air, and the hairs on Ed's arm stood on end. The sound seemed to be coming from all around him, melting out of the walls, and he backed away, hands outstretched and braced to fight even as his legs ached to run.

'You have doubts,' the voice said again. 'We know where you live, and the two soldiers guarding him are no match for the disciples I have waiting to bring him in. One phone-call and he will be taken.' A shape moved to Ed's right, and he jerked to face it, lips parted around every dragged in breath. The leader smiled, the vee of scars puckering as he bowed again, but this time it was more mocking than reverent. 'Would you care to make it a race, My Lord? You do not have time to save them both. Run for your brother and the dark one dies. Interfere with my plans, and your kin will suffer in your place.'

Anger burned hard and fast through Ed's veins, making him shake. His hands clenched into fists, the bloodied blade jutting obscenely from his arm as he snarled, 'Why don't I just take you down instead? That solves all my fucking problems. You won't bother any of us if you're in a morgue.'

The priest smiled indulgently, and Ed had a moment of brief puzzlement before heavy hands settled on his shoulders like lead weights. With a curse, he realised that the corridor had not been a dead end, and that Max and another burly man had come at him from behind.

His arms were hooked forcefully behind his back, twisted up at an awkward angle, and no amount of thrashing was enough to wrench himself free. Ed's growled warning fell on deaf ears. Max was bleeding, a bloodstain marking his plain grey trousers around the puncture wound Ed had gifted him, but it did not seem to affect his strength as he and another pinned Ed in place.

'You won't kill me, My Lord, not one of your most faithful.' The priest's voice slipped back into lilting tones, and Ed stared, trying to glean any sign of insanity in that expression, but there were none. The sharpness of the mind behind that mutilated face was far too easy to see, clinical, curious and strangely worshipful. 'Please, follow me. It is time.'

'You're out of your fucking mind!' Ed snapped, wincing as his arm was twisted painfully. Not even the automail was strong enough to break the grip of the disciples at his sides, and digging his heels in did no good whatsoever. They simply lifted him, leaving him as helpless as a puppet. 'You think I'm not going to fight? You think I'm just going to let you kill Mustang? You think I'm going to tip my head back and let you slit my throat, too?'

'Oh, you won't die. Not like the others.' Stormy grey eyes turned to him, lit with serene amusement. 'Their souls were weak and worthless. Your influence on them was too slight to provide more than a hint of success. The first few were terminated swiftly: a mercy to them – the alchemy was too much. Those closer to you were stronger, at least for a while. One soul bound to another, but they were trial runs, flawed still. Ending their lives was the only way to break the ties and free their hosts.' He shrugged. 'Alas, it was not to be. The disciples chosen to bond were not adequate. One lives, still. His brothers care for him now that his mind is gone.'

Ed's struggles paused as those words sunk in, permeating his mind like morning fog to nestle, cold and damp, within his skull. 'You can't bind two souls together,' he replied at last, scowling when the priest clapped his hands in delight. 'You're full of shit. A soul needs something physical to anchor it, or it will just drift through the Gate. You can't shove two souls in one body, either. It doesn't work like that.'

The priest nodded, watching Ed like a benevolent teacher, and his captors ignored Ed's renewed struggles as their grip tightened on his oily skin, hard enough to bruise. 'Come, My Lord. Seeing is believing. I will show you how it is done. Neither soul leaves its body, but they are bound all the same: symbiotic.'

Ed thrashed as he was half-carried back towards the stairs and the waiting array daubed on the floor below. Roy still lay there, motionless in a drugged sleep while the disciples scurried back and forth, putting together the finishing touches to the vast design.

'Why?' Ed demanded as the leader began to descend the staircase. 'What's the fucking point of it? All this effort, you got to be getting something out of it.'

The man did not look back, but his voice reached Ed's ears easily. 'Of all the people in the world, My Lord, you should know the power of a human soul. Those trapped in a Stone at the moment of death can be used but once, but a living spirit bound to another? That lasts a lifetime. Imagine how an alchemist could benefit. Think what your soul could do for me.'

Ice filtered through Ed's blood, turning his skin cold and clammy as panic prickled up his spine anew. He had heard come fucked up shit spewed from the mouths of alchemists before, but what this idiot was saying could not possibly be true, could it?

The candles on the stairs cast flickering shadows over each step, dancing in a gruesome jig as they finally reached the ground floor. Immediately, the disciples stopped what they were doing, dropping to their knees and lowering their heads in reverence. At first, Ed thought it was for their leader, but gradually he realised that their furtive, awe-filled glances were aimed at him. One or two whispered things that sounded like prayers, and dread coiled tight through Ed's guts as he took in each devoted face. They were far from mindless, there was intelligence behind every stare, but it was sharp and focussed, almost as if no life existed beyond these walls.

They looked hungry, and Ed felt sick as he realised that he and Mustang were as good as any meal for the cult's impossible alchemy. His eyes flickered back to Roy's prone form, and his helpless struggles ceased as he saw the blood smeared on Mustang's right wrist and smattering the floor. The design carved carefully into that pale skin was not as complicated as the one that sprawled across the floor, but it crystallised the fear in Ed's mind, narrowing the scope of escape down to almost nothing. Time was running out for both of them, and Ed's heart squeezed tight. There had to be something he could do – something to delay the inevitable. Surely the police were missing him by now? Every extra minute could be all it took to tip the balance.

'Why me?' he asked quietly, forcing his muscles to go lax as the men restraining him brought him to a halt near the array's edge. 'All this, it's all about me, and it's not just because I'm an alchemist. You keep calling me “My Lord”.' Ed sneered that, his voice dripping with disdain as whispers rippled through the waiting congregation. 'I'm no different from Mustang. No different from any alchemist you might shove in the middle of that thing, but it's still me you want.'

Now, the leader turned, his eyes calm and the smile on his face beatific as he inclined his head again. 'You are special, My Lord. Unique, even when compared to your brother. Those who know the mythos, such as myself, may even call you holy.'

'Then you're out of your mind,' Ed retorted, licking his lips as he looked over the priest's shoulder at Mustang. Was it his imagination, or was the pattern of his breathing changing? It seemed more shallow and rapid, as if Roy were starting to escape the clutches of the drug they kept dabbing on his lips, and Ed's heart stirred with hope as he saw those dark lashes begin to flutter. 'I'm no fucking saint or anything, and you can't just use me. That's not about religion, it's just about you.'

Anger sparked in the leader's eyes, and the scars seemed to twist as he stifled a snarl. It was a chink in his serene armour, gone as swiftly as it appeared, and he raised one eyebrow as his voice fell into a purr. 'On the contrary, My Lord, what is more holy than a martyr to the cause? This is your destiny, and nothing you can do will change the outcome. Watch, and you will see.'

A snap of his fingers was all it took for the silent, waiting disciples to take their places, and Ed stared around at them, unease prickling up his spine. Some were just spectators, but others stood at the edge of the array, pale-faced but determined. They wore golden hoods with their drab robes, and Ed did not need to ask their purpose. The array spoke to him in its simple schematic: those followers had been chosen as fuel for the transmutation. Worse, they went willingly, lambs to the slaughter, as if their sacrifice was worth it.

The chanting began again, loud and droning in Ed's ears as the notes rose and fell. Desperately, Ed looked towards Roy in the centre, but he was not awake. Faint lines etched his skin, as if he were struggling with a nightmare, but those dark eyes were not open, and there was no sign of awareness. It was up to Ed, and with every passing second, the chances of success shrank further.

'My apprentice,' the leader said, gesturing to a young man who was approaching the array. 'The first victims were bound to non-alchemists and the transmutation activated from a secondary circle, but the time for such precautions has passed.' His smile was almost loving. 'I need to be sure that our bond will work, My Lord, and I would not trust anyone but myself to control the alchemy of our union. George will be bound to your – friend.'

Ed tensed as the young alchemist stepped up to the arrays circumference. He could not be much older than Al, and he looked painfully naïve as he took in the sweep of the design before sinking to his knees. Ed could already see the sweat beading the boy's forehead as the chanting rose in volume, drowning out every other noise. Slender hands shook as they reached out for the perimeter, and Ed's jaw went tight. The kid was shit scared; that was something he could use.

At his sides, Max and the other guy had loosened their grip, lulled into a false sense of security by Ed's compliance. They were both too busy watching what was going on in the array, and a cold grin flashed over Ed's lips. It was now or never. If he could get free, then maybe he could save Mustang. If not...

No, better not to think about that.

One deep breath was all he needed to spring into action. Izumi's training came to the fore as he lashed out sideways at Max's injured leg, bashing his bleeding thigh with his bare foot. It was enough to make the big man stumble, and Ed tore his automail arm free and slashed around, ignoring the second man's cry of pain as the knife left a shallow gash across his chest.

The leader had turned in surprise, and Ed did not hesitate as he swept the automail blade upwards, watching the priest stumble back and clutch at his face. Other disciples were stuttering in their chanting and turning to stare, but Ed did not have time to fight them all. The array was already starting to glow, turning bright with energy as the apprentice poured himself into his work.

Ed leapt forward, slamming forcefully into the scrawny boy. It was like knocking over a feather, and they both went sprawling as the array began to scream like a living thing in pain. Ed spat a curse, his body acting on instinct as he clapped his hands and pressed them to the floor.

The transmutation had already gone too far to simply die, and the circumference burnt into his palm as he struggled with the power surging through the lines.

'Mustang, move!' he yelled desperately, swearing when Roy did not so much as twitch. The drug had to be too strong, and the only way to save him now was to bring the array back to silence.

Ed had reversed the transmutation process before, but never for anything this big, and his muscles clenched tight as he threw all his strength into bleeding out the power. It crackled over his skin like living lightning, scribbling through his veins and filling every breath with the smell of ozone. It felt as if he were coming undone, and Ed growled in frustration and fear as he felt the threads of his control snap one by one.

The tsunami of power hit him, wiping out the world to white as shouts and screams echoed around him. Someone was yelling in fury, cursing and howling, but there was barely space in Ed's mind to acknowledge it as the transmutation bloomed, slamming into him as the array burst into full life. It roared beneath his hands, shaking Ed all the way down to his bones, and he choked back a cry of pain as the energy plunged into him, curling beneath his ribs and lashing his arms and legs with invisible restraints too tight to break.

Ed could barely breathe. Time and direction faded to nothing as his body was pinned in place, taut and agonised. There was no way out – nothing he could do. He and Roy were both trapped in the web of power, utterly at its mercy. All they could do was ride it out and pray they survived to see the other side, and as the pain increased and the surges grew, Ed knew that was a dying hope.

He had failed.


	4. Chapter 4

Distant, dreamlike sounds washed through Roy's drug-clouded awareness: his only clue to the outside world. At first, the noises were soft: like something out of a dream. People whispered and bare feet padded over the floor, muted by the fog of sleep. He was aware of hands touching him, moving him, but nothing seemed to penetrate his shroud of slumber. He could no more open his eyes than he could stop a sunset, and all he could do was wait in dark isolation as time slipped away from him.

Finally, something changed. Gone was the peace and tranquillity. Instead, the air filled with chanting. One voice was joined by many until Roy was deafened by the rising crescendo, urgent and threatening. Panic stirred in his blood as pain flashed up his right arm, cutting through his stupor like a bright white lance, but it was still not enough.

The shrieking of his mind was met by lax, unresponsive muscles. He could not lift a finger, let alone get to his feet. Dimly, he could feel the cold floor beneath his back and the vulnerable splay of his body. Nerves twitched, desperate to curl his limbs close and hunch his back, but even such an animal instinct of defence was beyond him.

Abruptly, the chanting stopped, but the peace was short-lived. A heartbeat later it was broken by the sound of distant running footsteps, slamming doors and the mumble of voices, so tangled and distant that Roy wondered if it was all a dream. Perhaps the alarm would go off soon and pull him out of this deranged place. It was a comforting thought, because if this was all in his head, then at least he could not be hurt.

A voice cut across Roy's mind like a knife, not something hushed and reverent, but loud, demanding and instantly recognisable.

'Why? What's the fucking point of it? All this effort, you've got to be getting something out of it.'

Ed.

Sunlight broke through the clouds that coated Roy's mind. This was not a dream, nor a nightmare, though it shared many similarities with the latter. What he was hearing was not fiction, but reality, and his memories washed over him. Someone had taken him from his home. He had been drugged and brought to this place, where he had remained locked in a thick smog ever since.

Thoughts that had creaked, glacier-like through his skull, now moved like flowing water, leaving gleaming silver trails across his mind's eye as he listened to the world beyond the darkness. What was Ed doing here? Doubt flickered through Roy's body as the obvious answer came to mind, but it had to be wrong. There was no way Ed was the murderer. Even as the whispering uncertainty in Roy's head gained volume, he could not believe it. Ed would never take a human life, not if he had a choice in the matter. There had to be another reason for his presence. Besides, that question had not been calm or curious; it was filled with rage, and Roy felt a faint flutter of hope.

Another voice, one that Roy had not heard before, spoke. It was almost impossible to discern over the sudden whisper of cloth that surrounded him like a blowing wind, but he caught the tail-end of what was said.

'– a living spirit bound to another? That lasts a lifetime. Imagine how an alchemist could benefit. Think what your soul could do for me.'

There was nothing friendly in that statement, and relief trickled through Roy's body as he realised he had not been mistaken about Ed's innocence. Whatever had happened, Fullmetal was as much a victim as Roy, and judging by the lack of violence, he was probably equally helpless to fight off whoever was doing this to them.

Other words flowed around him, but Roy paid them no attention as he grappled with the drug in his system. He _had_ to wake up. Muscles spasmed and his breath caught in his chest as he fought, but it was still a losing battle. Whatever they had given him was thick in his blood, deep-rooted and unshakable, and every effort was met with twining vines of darkness that tightened as he struggled.

Another chant swarmed the air. The scent of alchemy and ozone filled his nose, and he realised this was about far more than just murder. He was in an array, he had to be. The power was crackling over him, raising the fine hairs on his arms and hissing in his ears.

A yelp of surprise was followed by a roar of fury, but it was almost impossible to hear over the growing whine and shriek of alchemy all around him. The array was howling like a wolf caught in a trap, wild and vicious, and even when someone seemed to soothe it, bringing the transmutation back from the brink of going nova, it was still far from under control.

'Mustang, move!'

Ed's yell was raw-edged and desperate, almost a sob, but it was still impossible to obey. He sounded nearer than before, as if he knelt little more than a few paces away, but it may as well have been a thousand miles for all that Roy could respond.

Heat baked the air, as deep and merciless as any blaze, swirling around the lines that Roy knew must surround him. He could feel them warming the skin of his back, but no amount of desperation could give him the strength he needed to pull himself free. Energy buzzed and hummed, and the darkness behind his eyes went to harsh, unforgiving white as he felt a surge of power obliterate the frail control that had held it in check.

It was like the snapping of a bowstring, fast and sharp. The alchemy burned, slamming into Roy's chest like a fist. It punched through his ribs so hard he was amazed the bones did not break, and pain exploded outwards as his spine arched off the floor. The light seemed to fill his veins, burning up his blood and flowing down his arm to coalesce at his stinging right wrist.

Roy's eyes shot open as the drug was scorched away, his muscles twisting as he writhed to escape the source of pain, but it was useless. His wrist was locked in place, his palm up and fingers splayed open by the force of the power shrieking down his nerves. The light was almost too dazzling, but he screwed up his face, his breath hissing back and forth through his teeth as he tried to master the agony that took root in his heart and coursed down through his arm.

All around him was a sense of something far more vast than he could comprehend, as if the universe were far-flung amidst the featureless light, invisible but within his reach all the same. Behind him, something creaked, a soft, ominous sound that made him turn, struggling to focus on the huge edifice nearby.

A warning hummed down Roy's spine, and he clenched his jaw as he stared at the stone pillars and carved wooden doors that stood resolutely closed in front of him. He had heard Al and Ed before, speaking of a Gate within alchemy. Their words were almost quiet, a strange mix of loathing and reverence, and he had never asked to know more. Now, unless he could get the hell out of here, Roy got the feeling he was about to find out first hand precisely what they had been talking about.

'You can't run from it.'

Roy turned towards the sound of Ed's voice, his struggles easing when he saw Fullmetal kneeling not far away. He was sitting back on his heels, shoulders slumped and eyes fixed utterly on the door. They did not even flicker in his direction, and Roy briefly wondered if that really was Ed, or if it was all some kind of trick of his mind.

'I know,' he replied, stifling a hitched sound of pain as hot pins seemed to dig into his wrist. Blood was dripping on the floor, vanishing in the featureless, glowing plane as the alchemy coiled around his arm like a shackle. 'I can't move anyway.' He winced as the sound of the transmutation continued to ascend in pitch, like a rising note echoing down a tunnel. Part of him doubted that he was physically in this strange place with Ed at his side, but no other reality made itself known to him. There was only light and the patient Gate.

'What's it waiting for?' he asked, biting his lip as his voice echoed strangely, but Ed still heard the question. It seemed to be enough to bring those blank eyes back into focus, and Ed looked over his shoulder, his young face set in hard, sad lines as the power reached its highest pitch and the air began to stir.

'That.'

Like a ship crashing into a reef, the strength of the alchemy slammed fully into them once more. A sharp wind howled inwards, ruffling Roy's hair and scraping over his skin as, nearby, the huge doors began to part. Beyond, there was only darkness, and the ice white of the wind showed up in diamond brilliance against that cushion of night. Roy shuddered, trying to tell himself that it was only his imagination painting faces in the vortices, but he was not convinced by his reassurances. Frantically, he tried again to pull his arm free, choking out a cruse as an invisible force fought back against his efforts.

The air was full of a sense of expectation, and Roy heard Ed draw in a sharp breath. He was staring intently at the parted Gate, gold eyes burning in the pallor of his face. Whatever he could see was not something Roy was privy to, but a quick glance down at Ed's hand showed the same bright power coiling around his left wrist, drawing blood as line after line slashed through his skin.

The darkness leapt, surging outwards to snuff out the light. Clutching hands scraped at Roy's cheeks, tangling in his short hair before fingers snagged at his burning wrist. A brief flutter of a soothing caress was all he felt before the shadows struck. Lance-like, it bit through his skin and bone, stabbing through and out the other side in a gory spar.

A yell of pain surged out of Roy, almost inaudible amidst the howl and shriek of alchemy. The air stank of heat, power and fear, and Roy choked back dry sobs as he tried to understand what was happening. The blackness had not stopped once it pierced his flesh, but continued on in a sharp, black ribbon to stab through Ed's left wrist, bloody and violent as the young man's face twisted in agony.

Shadows covered them, thick and vile, and Roy slumped to his side on the floor, snatching in ragged breaths as he fought to hang on to his sanity. His heart was racing, too sick and fast to maintain its beat, and his mind felt shattered – dragged apart and shaken up by the receding power that still arced through him.

Just when Roy thought it would never end – that he would die here rather than see the light of day again – the squeal of the transmutation began to ebb. The wind fell silent as Roy curled up tighter, too drained to force his eyes open. Every bone and muscle seemed to wail beneath the onslaught, and all Roy managed to pick out was the faint creak of wood, like a closing door, before the world fell silent around him.

Perhaps he slipped into unconsciousness, or maybe that was where he had been all along, because the next time he found awareness once more, he was lying on his side on a cold tile floor. It stretched out beneath him, paper-white but for the arcing lines of the array. No one spoke or welcomed him back into the waking world, and a weak groan escaped his lips as he tried to sit up.

As soon as he leant his weight on his right arm, pain arrowed into his mind. Roy lifted his hand from the ground, holding it lax in the air before twisting his hand around, palm up, to examine the inside of his wrist. An array was carved into his skin, neat and perfect, deep enough to draw blood, but not so deep as to sever a major artery or vein. He half-expected to find a puncture going right through his arm, but there was nothing like that. The only sign of anything strange was the blackness along the edges of the cuts, like singed flesh or ink.

Only a faint veneer of blood lingered on his skin, and Roy pressed his fingertips to the wound as lightly as he could, wincing at the sting. The mark was only as wide as his thumb was long, but the discomfort seemed to echo right down to his exhausted soul, and he closed his eyes again as the floor swayed and skipped drunkenly.

Fear burst across Roy's mind like gunfire as he remembered that he had not been alone at the Gate, and he whipped his head around, ignoring the waltz of his vision as he scrambled towards the prone body nearby. Blonde hair was coming loose from its ponytail, and a white vest and trousers were stained with drops of red and smudges of dirt. Deep, dark shadows rested under Ed's eyes, as if he had not slept in a week, and shallow breaths whispered between his parted lips.

At least he was still alive.

Roy swallowed, trying to keep his hand steady as he reached out to double check Ed's pulse. As soon as his fingers brushed against Ed's skin, a jolt of power zapped Roy's finger, arcing from him to Ed and back again in a bright gold line. Instantly, Ed jerked awake. There was no moment of half-wakefulness in between. He went from unconscious to fully aware in a heartbeat, bolting into a sitting position as if his muscles had no choice but to obey.

Clearly it was too much, because Ed cupped his heads in his hand, spitting a swearword that ended on a miserable groan.

'Are you all right?' Roy asked shakily, holding out a feeble hand. Not that he had the strength to hold Ed up if he slumped into unconsciousness again, but the expression on Ed's face was wretched.

'Feel like I've been hit by a fucking train,' he muttered at last, pressing his hands to his temples. 'Could be worse, I guess,' he added. 'At least I'm still sane and got all the limbs I went in with.' Finally, he looked up, his gaze intensifying as he scrutinised Roy closely. 'What about you? Still all there and everything?'

That was not an easy question to answer. He felt dizzy, nauseous with the pain, and he could not ignore the faint, nagging sensation that something was fundamentally _wrong_. Roy hated the vagueness of his instincts, but ever since he had opened his eyes to this room, there had been a subtle feeling that something was amiss, and it had only intensified over the past few moments.

'I'm as well as can be expected,' Roy replied, wishing he sounded calm and confident, rather than pathetic. 'What happened? Who did this to us?' He frowned as he realised that Ed was not looking at him anymore. Instead he was staring at something behind Roy's shoulder, grey-faced and with an unidentifiable expression: horror, pity, or something else?

'They did.'

Following the younger man's gaze, Roy choked on his next breath. Before now, his world had been limited to the few feet of lined floor around him. No one had challenged him, and so he had concentrated on his most immediate concerns. Perhaps if he had been more alert he would have noticed his surroundings sooner.

Now, however, the carnage had his full attention.

Candles burned on every surface, their flames casting innocent reflections off of the red stained floor. Blood was splashed like gruesome rose petals around the bodies that lay a short distance away. They had probably been standing on the edge of the array, and it looked as if the alchemy had simply reached in and torn the life from their chests. Crimson tainted the robes around the startling white of jutting ribs, and dead eyes were turned towards the middle of the room. Burns dappled the slack faces of both men and women, showing every lash of power, and Roy fought to suppress the shivers that were beginning to shake his frame.

'Tell me what happened,' he commanded, his cool mask a distant memory as he reached out and grabbed Ed's shoulders to give him a shake. Immediately, another spark shot between them, more vicious than the last. Roy twitched back, clenching his teeth as he snapped, 'You can't tell me you don't know. You had a front row seat!'

'And you had your fucking eyes shut. Fat lot of good you were,' Ed retorted, shaking his head and staggering to his feet. For a minute Roy thought he would fall flat on his face – was half-braced to catch him – but after a few wobbly seconds, he seemed to find his balance and thrust out his automail hand towards Roy, palm up and inviting. 'I'm not hanging around here for the fuckers to come back for us. I'll tell you as we go. Come on, Mustang. You've got legs. Use them.'

Roy tensed, prepared for yet another zap of power, but this time all he felt was the cool kiss of metal as Ed gripped him hard and hauled him to his feet. The room pitched alarmingly, and it was only Ed's outstretched arms that stopped him from sagging to the floor again. They held up his weight, strong but shaking, and still no painful power jumped between them. It must have been aftershock from the transmutation, like static after a storm, Roy thought fuzzily, trying to focus as the floor seemed to twist away from under his feet.

'Like fuck you're all right,' Ed hissed, and Roy felt the automail clamp hard around his waist as Ed dragged Roy's left arm over his shoulders, supporting almost all of Roy's weight. 'If you throw up on me, I'm leaving you here.'

It was an empty threat, all bark and no bite: one of the many signs that Ed was not as calm and unaffected by what lay all around them. Power still hummed in the air, tangling with the metallic tang of blood and the lingering phantom of incense. It was a repulsive smell, and Roy clenched his jaw, trying not to lean too heavily on Ed as he ground out, 'Tell me what happened. Last thing I remember was being taken from my house. Some kind of drug –'

'You were completely out of it,' Ed replied in a low voice, easing them both towards the distant door. 'Some shit went down at the police station. It was one of the cops, Max, who brought me here: big guy with a funny accent.' Ed's bare foot slithered in some blood, just starting to turn tacky, and they both stumbled for a moment before he regained his balance. 'I was trying to help you, you know that, right? This wasn't – it wasn't me. They did it to themselves.'

He waved a hand down at one of the blankly staring corpses, his words becoming more frantic as he tried to explain. 'They made me breathe something in and dragged me here. Kept calling me “My Lord” and saying some crap about binding two souls together...' He trailed off, and Roy glanced sideways to see Ed's jaw working furiously.

'The people they killed were all practice runs. You were going to be the last before that twisted fuck tried to bind me to him.' Ed's shoulders shifted uncomfortably as he and Roy picked their way across the floor, leaving bloody footprints across the chequered tiles. 'Some kid was doing the alchemy. I knocked him out of the way and tried to reverse it, but it was too far gone.'

'And the bodies?' Roy asked, looking back over his shoulder.

'Fuel, and they knew it.' Ed grunted uncomfortably as they approached a short flight of wide steps that led up to a huge wooden door. It looked like something that belonged in one of the old family estates, and Roy's sluggish mind started to pick up other salient points, like the chandeliers, the ugly, staring portraits, and a glossy black telephone perched on the table by the door.

'I want to know where the others are.' Ed cocked his head to one side as he half-dragged Roy upwards towards the door. 'There are, what? Maybe twenty dead? This whole place is like a tomb, but there were nearly fifty when the array went off, including their leader and that bastard Max.'

'Door's barred on the inside,' Roy mumbled, pointing forward. 'They didn't get out this way. Maybe they're still here?'

They both paused, eyes meeting as they strained to pick out any sound from the peace. Nothing stirred the calm but the stutter of a candle flame choking out its last, and Ed shook his head. 'We're on our own, Mustang, and the sooner we get out of here, the better.' Carefully, he steered Roy up the last of the steps and propped him against the wall, his hands lingering on the bare skin of Roy's shoulders.

'There's probably another way out. I might have been doped up, but I remember Max going down steps to the door he used to get into this place. The priest probably ran out that way. I just hope they're not hanging around for us outside.'

Roy watched him step back, feeling the shudders start up anew as the cold air seeped over him where Ed's hands had been. The fizz of adrenaline was starting to fade, and Roy's thoughts drifted like feathers, alighting on one unanswered question after another but never lingering for more than a moment. He felt wrung out and half-smothered by the aches that lingered in his body, unable to concentrate or even stand up without leaning on something for support.

Dimly, he heard the sound of wood shifting and looked up to see Ed moving the bar that blocked their way. His arms shook with the strain, although Roy doubted it was really that heavy, and he could see sweat beading Ed's pale brow. Whatever he said, the younger man was far from fine. He looked precisely how Roy felt, and as he watched, he saw a drop of blood fall from Ed's left wrist, splashing against one of the white tiles.

Pressing his palm to the wall, Roy forced himself to move closer as Ed finally lifted the bar up and out of the way. He was panting from the effort, and he jerked in shock when Roy reached out and grabbed Ed's left arm, turning his hand so the inner face of his wrist was exposed. The array stood out, stark and bloody, an exact mirror of the one on Roy's right. If they stood face to face and pressed their wrists together, the designs would match perfectly.

'I didn't think it was real,' Roy said quietly, shaking his dizzy head at his own stupidity. 'I saw it happen at the Gate, but I didn't think –'

'What it does to you in there happens out here,' Ed replied, tugging his hand free and turning towards the door. 'It was no dream, Mustang. The Gate was there, and so were we.'

Roy blinked his eyes, wishing his mind would stop feeling like a heavy sponge, sodden and useless. 'Did the array – did it work?'

Ed hesitated, and the silence was a heartbeat too long for his answer to be as honest as he sounded. 'I doubt it did anything serious,' Ed said at last, his face still turned towards the door and away from Roy. 'Maybe – _maybe_ – it would have worked if I hadn't interrupted the transmutation, but as it is...' A doubtful grunt caught in his throat, and he turned towards the door, grasping the handle and leaning his weight against it as he pushed it open. Immediately, the cold of the night swept inwards, making the remaining candles flicker madly as Roy shivered hard.

'That fucked up priest didn't know what he was talking about,' Ed continued. 'Do you really think it somehow bound our souls together or something? That's impossible.'

'So was getting your brother back,' Roy reminded him, pursing his lips as Ed looked away. He could not find the words to express his concerns. Yes, they were both whole, sane and apparently unaffected beyond exhaustion and the steady creep of shock, but that did not explain the hollow, burning feeling that seemed to have taken root beneath Roy's heart, nor the fact that the array had demanded and been paid its price. Could they really have escaped it unaffected when so many people had lost their lives?

'You think we're the same as when we went into that array?' Roy watched Ed poke his head out of the door rather than meet his eyes. 'That doesn't seem likely to me. How many times have you seen an array take so much and do so little?' He shifted his weight, straightening his shoulders as Ed took half-a-step over the threshold. 'Fullmetal, where are you going?'

Ed looked over his shoulder, and now Roy could see the restless anxiety carving its way into his face. Previously, Ed's emotions had been glossed over by the strange calm that comes with shock, but now that was dissipating, and he looked out into the wind-tossed night almost desperately. 'I need to get home,' he said firmly. 'The fucker that started all this is out there somewhere, and he could be after Al. He said – said something about how Al would do for his experiments if I fucked things up.' He looked down at his bloodied wrist, his lips twisting in a sickened grimace as he whispered, 'Somehow I don't think this was part of his plan.'

Of course, Ed was not thinking about the life-altering alchemy they had just survived or even his own trembling, exhausted body. His mind was on the other side of the city, as always, dwelling on his brother's well-being.

Old habits died hard, and despite his confusion, it was easy for Roy to fall back on behaviour formed from years in the military. 'We can't just walk out of here and leave more than a dozen dead bodies for someone else to find. We need to tell the police and the army; there'll be no keeping them out of this now.' A small sigh escaped his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The weight of duty settled on him like a blanket, almost comforting, and when he opened his eyes his thoughts seemed a little clearer.

'Stay here. That's an order, Fullmetal.' Snagging his fingers in Ed's vest, he pulled him back into the room before reaching past Ed's shoulder and shoving the door shut. Stumbling towards the phone, he ignored Ed's inarticulate sound of protest at his command and snatched the receiver from the cradle. The dial tone droned in his ear, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

With a tired sigh, he dialled the office, hoping that his men already knew he was missing and would be at headquarters. Patience was not required, before the phone rang a second time, the line went live, and Hawkeye's clipped tones, clearly harassed and brimming with concern, came over the line, demanding and far from her polite, standard greeting. 'Yes, what is it?'

'Hawkeye, it's me. I need you all down here, along with Anders and her men.'

Her sigh of relief echoed down the phone, and Roy could practically hear her prioritising her questions, professional as always. 'Tell me where you are, sir. As soon as we heard from the police that Edward was missing, we tried to call you. It did not take us long to realise that something untoward had happened.'

'Ed's with me, but, uh –' Roy blinked around the hallway, realising he had no answer to her question. Before he had a chance to look out the window, Ed reached out, tugging the phone from his grip and putting it to his ear.

'We're in a building on the edge of Edil Park; I can see the sign from the window. For fuck's sake, bring Al with you. I don't care who's watching him; he's not safe.'

Roy leaned back against the wall, watching Ed's face as Hawkeye asked another question. She would keep it to the bare essentials, but Ed's automail hand was already rattling against the receiver, and Roy wondered exactly how much the alchemy had taken out of him. The transmutation had been immense, and as much as Roy felt like driftwood spat out after a typhoon, Ed had to feel a hundred times worse.

'No, we'll stay here. Just hurry up.' He rolled his eyes, handing the receiver back to Roy, who took it with clumsy fingers to listen to the earpiece once more.

'Sir, do either of you need medical attention?'

'That would probably be a good idea, Lieutenant. Ed can explain what happened better than I can, but I think we could both benefit from the attentions of a doctor – if only to make sure we're both all right.'

'I'm fine,' Ed muttered, but Roy ignored him, turning away a little so that he could make out Hawkeye's words.

'We'll be there within ten minutes, Sir, all of us. Can you defend yourself if your attackers return?'

Roy looked down at the bloodied bodies on the floor and thought of the others Ed had mentioned, now fled into the cloak of darkness. Would they come back here looking for them, or give both he and Ed up as dead? 'I won't go down without a fight, Lieutenant, and neither will Fullmetal,' he replied, knowing it was all the reassurance he could give. 'We'll be waiting for you.'

Hawkeye's farewell was heralded by the bee-in-a-tin buzz of the dial tone, and Roy placed the receiver back in its cradle. His bare shoulders slumped as he scrubbed at his eyes, dearly wishing that he could lie down on the floor until help arrived. He was too cold, tired and confused to make sense of any of this, but the glassy shroud of detachment was starting to fade. There was no denying the truth: he had seen the Gate, and something – some indefinable change – had taken place.

A whisper of cloth and a wooden clatter made Roy glance up just in time to see Ed grasp a pair of heavy, velvet drapes and yank them with all his strength. Fabric ripped, plaster cracked, and the huge curtains fell to the floor with a cascading hush, leaving the rail hanging drunkenly over the window.

'What are you doing?' Roy asked, honestly baffled even as Ed dragged one of the pair over to him and threw it clumsily around Roy's shoulders.

'You're still shivering,' he said bluntly, his own teeth chattering clumsily around the words. 'Fuck knows where your shirt and jacket are – probably the same place as my damn clothes – so this'll have to do.' He grabbed Roy's uninjured wrist and tugged it to the edges of the fabric, waiting for Roy to hold the make-shift blanket around himself in a clumsily clenched fist before scuffing back to the remaining curtain and dragging it around his frame. There was enough fabric dragging behind his heels to make a nest, and Roy watched as Ed sat on the floor near the door, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

If things had been different – if they had been in the office rather than here, bloody and beaten – then Ed would never have dared to leave himself vulnerable. Roy knew Fullmetal well enough to realise that the younger man viewed him as a threat. Not physically, because Ed could wipe the floor with Roy any day of the week, but in a verbal interaction Roy always had the upper hand. Normally, Ed watched him like a hawk, that bright gold gaze burning like an inferno as he waited for Roy to meet his expectations and twitch his puppet strings anew.

This was different. In the walls of the office, there was always that lingering sense of rank in the air, but if the fizz of alchemy had done nothing else, it had rendered he and Ed equal in their weary weakness. Roy could barely think straight enough to voice simple truths, let alone don that distant mask and fake indifference to Ed's muted distress.

Clumsily, Roy picked his way over to Ed's side, feeling every bruised muscle pang as he slumped to the floor. Only the wall at his back stopped him from curling up on his side and claiming the sleep he so desperately needed, and he leaned his full weight against the hard stone as he blinked up at the chandeliers.

'Al will be fine,' he said quietly, tightening the fabric around his shoulders and nestling deeper in its musty folds. 'He's far from defenceless, and unlike us, he'll be on his guard for an attack. Besides, Havoc and Breda are with him.'

Ed grunted, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He was still shaking hard, and his voice stuttered as he said, 'Bastard said there were disciples waiting to take him if I didn't cooperate. Dared me to risk it and choose between saving you or Al.' Silver fingers curled into a hard, punishing fist, and Roy noticed that Ed's left hand was turned palm up, the array on his wrist exposed to the air. The skin looked angry and red, almost as if it had been poisoned, whereas Roy's was flat and almost painless, nothing but dark lines and sticky, drying blood on his flesh.

'So why didn't you go to Al?' Roy asked, tired and detached but for the curiosity. It had been a foolish challenge to issue to Edward: the life of the commanding officer he barely tolerated or the brother he had been to hell and back to save once before. Before this moment, Roy had never imagined that Ed would even hesitate, yet he was still here, not out in the city and at his brother's side as he so clearly longed to be.

The glare Ed shot his way was hard and furious, and a distant frisson of uncertainty shot down Roy's spine. 'What the fuck, Mustang? You think I'd leave you here for them to tear apart when there was a choice in it?' The loose blonde ponytail slipped over his shoulder in a knot of gold as he shook his head. 'Thought I'd have a better chance of going along with it and trying to get you out. It just –' He looked down at Roy's wrist and shrugged. '– didn't work out the way I thought it would. Should have been easy enough, bleed off the power and drive it into something to blow the shit out of the priest instead, but as soon as I touched it...'

He shut his eyes for a moment before looking up, staring at the scattered bodies on the sunken floor before them. 'It was like it was waiting for me. As soon as I put my hands on the lines, I knew where it would take us,' Ed confessed quietly. 'You never forget the way that kind of alchemy hits you – almost turns you inside out it's so strong – and nothing you can do'll stop it. The best you can hope for is that it'll spit you out alive and let you pick up the pieces afterwards.'

Ed's gaze flickered down to the automail arm wrapped around his knee. He could be fourteen years _older_ than Roy in that moment, wise in the worst ways, and Roy's throat pulsed awkwardly around comforting words. He did not give them voice, after all, what could he say? He barely understood what had happened, and even Ed's explanation left too many unanswered questions.

'Thank you,' he said at last, feeling Ed's twitch of surprise at his side. 'You said the priest's apprentice was commanding the transmutation before you took him down. If it couldn't be stopped, then I'm at least glad it was you, rather than him, who was holding the reins.'

Ed snorted. 'I wasn't any more in control of that than you were. An alchemist is never in charge of that kind of transmutation . He starts it, but from then on, he's nothing but a channel – or a victim, depending how bad it goes.'

'For them, I wouldn't say it ended well,' Roy murmured, nodding his head weakly towards the remains of the Gate's bitter price. 'And we still don't know what it did.'

Shaking hands lifted to Ed's face, scrubbing at his eyes as his shoulders slumped beneath the makeshift blanket. 'If it fucked with us, we'll find out sooner or later. The priest said the previous arrays had worked before, sort of, but that doesn't mean this one did anything.' He dragged a shaking hand through his tangled hair, his head turning as the distinctive sound of frantic car engines shattered the peace. 'Sounds like the cavalry is here.'

Roy groaned, splaying his hand against the wall as he struggled to get to his feet. His knees shook threateningly, and the curtain around his shoulders dragged at him as he shuffled towards the door. He could hear the sirens of the police cars and the screech of tyres: discretion was clearly not forefront in anyone's mind, and he took a deep breath as he struggled to regain his air of authority.

Part of him longed to let someone else deal with the problem, but rank showed him no such mercy. Besides, with both the police and military involved, a voice of confident reason would be necessary. If nothing else, he had to make sure that this situation was kept firmly under his control.

Straightening his back, he pushed open the door. Instantly, the cloying smell of blood and incense was washed from his nose, and he took a deep breath as he leaned on the threshold. Ed was at his side, and he realised they were both flanking the entrance like exhausted sentries as they watched the cars pull gracelessly up to the front of the building.

His men approached first, grim-faced and with guns at the ready as they hurried towards him. Quickly, not giving any of them the time to ask questions, he fixed his gaze on Hawkeye. 'Spread out and search this entire building for survivors. If you find any, take them prisoner. They might be able to answer a few important questions.'

'Yes, Sir.' Riza's expression was hard and professional, and he knew she would be blaming herself for failing to come to his aid sooner. 'How many do you believe are inside?'

'None, but we think roughly thirty people are unaccounted for. A crowd that large should struggle to conceal themselves. Take as many men, police and military, as you need and expand your search to the surrounding streets once the building has been cleared.'

As one, his men nodded, and he watched as both Hawkeye and Havoc took control with smooth ease, separating the available manpower into parties before getting to work. Of course, they had no valid command over the police, but a quick nod from Anders was all most needed to willingly join forces.

Roy stood to one side, allowing the men to hurry through and begin their task. He heard their shock at the massacre inside and felt the tension in the air take on a chilling edge. 'Deputy Inspector?' he called, watching as Anders stepped forward. Her uniform was dishevelled and a thin, dry line of blood crossed her cheek. She looked as if her night had gone badly, but Roy knew the details of that would have to wait until later. 'You'll need body bags, approximately twenty.'

'Victims?' she asked, her haggard face blanching further.

'More like accomplices,' Ed muttered from where he stood at Roy's side. 'Where's my brother?'

'Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and two of my men will be here with him shortly.' The woman pursed her lips, her brow pinched with concern as she looked Ed up and down. 'We'll need to discuss what happened back at the police station, Major, as well as here, but for now I suggest you and the Brigadier-General see a medic.' She gestured to a sleek white ambulance, patient and waiting at the back of the pack of cars. 'I must go inside and assist with the search, but I'll leave some of my men here for your protection.'

She turned to a sergeant, and although her words were quieter than before, Roy still made out her orders. 'Watch them. Neither are to leave without a police presence at their side. The military may take this under their jurisdiction, but I'm not about to sit back and let them try to cover-up what happened here.'

With a final nod at both Roy and Ed, she marched in the mansion, her sensible heels tapping on the floor. Roy heard the hesitation in her footsteps as she took in the church inside, but somehow he doubted she would let her shock intrude upon her duty. There were enough people here now to deal with the horrors that the house contained, and Roy let his priorities shift. He had to focus on making sure that both he and Ed were healthy and able to answer the copious questions that were sure to come their way.

'You first, Fullmetal,' Roy said, motioning towards the ambulance and giving a tired scowl when Ed simply folded the velvet drapes closer to his chest. 'That's an order. I don't give a damn if you think you're “fine”, you need someone to take a look at you.'

'I'm waiting for Al.'

'You can wait in the ambulance.' Roy was so exhausted that he could almost sob with it, and right now he was too dazed to cope with Ed's stubborn nature. His manipulative mind came up blank, and all he could do was whisper, 'Please, Ed?'

Ed glared at Roy before rolling his eyes, a brief moment of such typical teenage behaviour that Roy almost smiled at the sight. 'Fine, but you're coming too. You're the one that looks like you're about to collapse, not me.'

Roy was certain that he and Ed looked equally horrific, but he followed Fullmetal's lead as docile as a lamb. It was easier, in a way, to let other people tell him what to do, and Roy breathed a thankful sigh as the medic gestured for both of them to sit on the tailgate of the ambulance, sheltered by the wide-flung wings of the open doors.

Before the pretty blonde medic got a chance to open her mouth, another dark car squealed to a halt. Roy watched Hughes surge out from behind the steering wheel as Al scrambled out from the back-seat, slamming the door in the face of a policeman that Roy recognised. Warner's furious expression was easily visible through the glass, but Alphonse was too busy looking around for his brother to notice what he had done.

It was only when Ed called out his name that the mask of worry on his features eased, and Roy watched him tug on Hughes' sleeve and point towards the ambulance before hurrying over with the older man in tow. Al's lips were already parted around a string of questions. 'Brother, what happened? Are you all right? First they said you'd been arrested, then that you'd gone missing –'

'You might not have time to answer those questions,' Hughes said, smiling apologetically at Al before glancing pointedly back at the car, where Warner and a couple of other officers were clambering clumsily out. Roy followed his friend's gaze and saw the handcuffs open in Warner's hands. The officious man straightened his jacket before marching towards them, his voice carrying easily over the bustle around the house.

'You're under arrest, Major Elric.' His boots tapped on the pavement as he stalked up to the ambulance, shoving past Al and Hughes as he continued, 'Murder, arson, fleeing imprisonment... we have enough charges to put you in front of the firing squad twice over. Hold out your wrists.'

'Fuck off,' Ed said quietly. If he had not been so exhausted, Roy had no doubt he would have used his fists in emphasis, but the look Ed was giving Warner was heavy and listless. 'I never did any of that shit. Max drugged me and dragged me out of the police station when it caught fire and then he carried me here to be shoved in an array by the actual killer. Of course, the cops are never there when you really need them, are they?'

'You can't arrest him, anyway, not until I've conducted a medical investigation and declared him healthy,' the medic said, folding her arms and lifting her chin defiantly at Warner's glare. 'It's the law, officer. You should know that.'

Warner's rough sound of anger was interrupted by Roy's cold question, deliberately pitched to carry clearly through the night air. 'Does Deputy Inspector Anders know what you're trying to do? I doubt she would look kindly on your attempts to arrest someone so obviously innocent.'

Warner's lips curled into a sneer, and Roy's knuckles cramped with the urge to snap and set the idiot's face on fire. Without gloves, it would be a useless gesture, but the temptation lingered on like a glowing coal in the pit of his stomach, and he saw Hughes shoot him a warning look over the top of his glasses. This was a difficult situation, politically, and doing an officer of the law grievous bodily harm would not do them any favours.

'Rank does not equate to intelligence, Brigadier-General,' Warner murmured. 'The Deputy Inspector has been blinded by her feminine weakness. I am merely acting in accordance with what the evidence dictates. I am amazed that, even now, you're trying to protect him. After all, it was probably the major who had you brought here.'

'Major Elric risked his own life to save me from the criminals you have failed to capture,' Roy retorted, stifling a sigh when Warner gave a disbelieving bark of laughter.

'Brigadier-General, whatever he has told you in order to convince you to fabricate these ridiculous accounts, I must remind you that the punishment for impeding a police investigation is a three-year jail sentence and a dishonourable discharge.'

Hughes cleared his throat before Roy got a chance to respond, and his eyes practically danced with satisfaction as he replied, 'Then perhaps it is for the best that this is now a military investigation. I'm afraid, Officer Warner, that you do not have the authority to make an arrest.' A faint, apologetic smile crossed Hughes' lips. 'There are only two people who have the rank to take anyone into custody in this situation, and that would be Deputy Inspector Anders and Chief Inspector Myers. I recommend you take your evidence to them for consideration.'

Warner's face was suffused with an ugly red, and Roy scratched his nose to hide the smile that spread treacherously across his lips. Hughes had not told a word of a lie. Warner's threats were useless, and he knew it. With a tight, angry sound, he rounded on Ed, waving his finger like a cattle prod. 'If you so much as put one foot wrong, I'll have you in cuffs no matter what they say. Do I make myself clear?'

'Enough,' the medic snapped, splaying a hand against Warner's chest and giving him a shove. 'Until I state otherwise, these two men are in my care. Neither of them can even be questioned until I say so. The longer you hang around making stupid threats, the longer you'll have to wait for answers.'

Pointedly, the young woman turned her back on Warner, but Roy saw her faint smile of victory as the policeman spluttered in fury before barging his way towards the house. No doubt he was trying to find someone who might support his cause, although Roy doubted he would go to Anders. Warner had no love for her. He was more the type to spread rumour and unrest until he came out on top.

'Can you keep an eye on him for me?' Roy asked Hughes, watching his friend give a tired grin.

'Already on it. You let Juliet patch you up, all right? I'll send a couple of your men out to watch you as soon as I can.' Hughes pushed his glasses up his nose, and the expression on his face was one of relief mixed with the lingering taint of fear. 'I'm glad you're all right, Roy. When we found out you'd been taken, none of us had any doubts about the kind of trouble you were in. We were about to start ripping the city apart when you called.'

Roy tried to give a comforting smile, but it felt stiff and ugly on his face. 'I'm fine. I think I look worse than I feel.'

'Hmmm,' Hughes grunted doubtfully before looking at the medic. 'Take good care of them, Juliet. And Al? Don't let either of them out of your sight.'

Al nodded before turning to look back at Ed, drinking in the sight of his brother as if he had thought he would never see him again. After all these years, the Elrics were as close as ever, and Roy watched them both, knowing that neither of them needed to speak to communicate. Al's body language was demanding, while Ed's remained hunched and beaten, the picture of exhausted apology.

'It's not like I got taken on purpose,' Ed muttered, shrugging helplessly when Al just sighed. 'Mustang was the one that put me in protective custody like something in a cage.'

'For your own safety,' Roy pointed out, grimacing as the medic chose to examine him first. Reluctantly, he shrugged out of the blanket as she rooted in her bag for a stethoscope, sitting still while she poked and prodded at the bruises on his ribs.

Ed huffed, folding his arms. 'Lot of good that did me. I should have been with Al, not trapped in there.'

'Just start at the beginning, Brother,' Al suggested, running a hand through his short hair and watching Ed with bright gold eyes. 'No one would tell me anything about what was going on. I don't think Breda and Havoc even knew why they were acting like bodyguards. They said something about you being in jail, but that was it.'

Roy listened as Ed started to explain, talking in hushed tones as the young woman worked, flashing lights in Roy's eyes and asking him quick, quiet questions. Ed did not tell Al anything Roy did not know, but the younger brother's reactions were clear and visceral. He was a transparent pane of emotion compared to Ed's opaque mirror. He looked physically sick when Ed mentioned the five other victims, including Greg.

'I'm sorry,' Al whispered, pressing his lips together and blinking back tears. He always did seem to be more open with his feelings than Ed, but Roy knew that Al's reactions were utterly genuine. He was a simple reflection of Ed's hidden pain, and Al's mood only deepened with confusion as Ed went on to explain about the priest and the array that had torn at them both only a short while ago.

'Is it even possible to bind two souls together?' Al whispered when Ed paused. 'I mean –' He glanced warily towards the medic. '– we've done a lot of reading, but I've never seen anything like that mentioned.'

'The priest seemed to think so. Said it had worked before. The alchemy was too much for the first three, and their throats were slit to spare them or some shit like that. Jo and Greg worked better. He said it was because they were closer to me, but it's probably just because the array had evolved into something workable.' Ed picked at the drape still clutched around his shoulders. 'He said he kept them going for a while, then cut their throats because they were still flawed. Each person was bound to one of his disciples. Four of the disciples died, and he said the other one went mad or something.' Ed shook his head, his voice lifting a little. 'Just because the bastard said it doesn't mean it's true – it didn't seem to work this time.'

Al looked over to meet Roy's doubtful gaze, and every single reservation that occupied Roy's mind was clear on the younger Elric's face. He knew better than anyone when Ed was tweaking the truth, and Roy knew that Al did not put all his faith in Ed's assessment of the situation. 'That doesn't matter now,' Al said at last. 'As long as you're both all right?'

Roy looked up at Juliet, who was examining the wound on his wrist with a frown on her face. Grey eyes followed the pattern of lines, but he knew she was seeing the physiological, rather than any meaning the design may contain. 'Other than exhaustion, the Brigadier-General seems well enough. When did you receive this injury?'

'Tonight.' Roy looked down at it, tilting his wrist fractionally towards the glow of one of the streetlamps and watching the straight lines glimmer eerily. 'Major Elric received a matching wound.'

'That was done with a knife. The alchemy did mine,' Ed added, leaning closer to look at Roy's arm. 'It looks week' old.'

'There's no clotting either,' the medic replied. 'It should still be seeping blood. I think we need to take you to the hospital and get one of the doctors to look at it. Otherwise, you're a little shocked, which isn't surprising. Time, a good night's sleep and a square meal should fix you up fine. Now, let's take a look at you, Major.'

Juliet grabbed the curtain cocoon, tugging it from Ed's shoulders and making an apologetic noise when Ed shuddered. 'Sorry, but I don't have x-ray vision. Let's look at your wrist first.'

Roy winced as Ed turned his left hand over, revealing the bloody mess that scored its way through his flesh. It looked worse than it had before. Bruising dappled the skin with shades of black and blue, and trails of blood still seeped across his skin. As soon as the medic touched it, Ed's face pinched with pain, and she shook her head as she reached for a dressing. 'This is how yours should look,' she said to Roy, glancing at him as she got to work. 'It needs to be properly cleaned and disinfected. I'll just check over everything else and then we'll get you both to the hospital.'

She bustled about industriously, checking Ed's vitals and repeating the same basic tests Roy had endured. Ed took them all with his usual bad grace, scowling as Juliet told him to lift up the grimy white vest and pressed the stethoscope over his heart. No one spoke, and only the hurried sound of Breda and Fuery's footsteps made Roy glance away from Ed's profile.

His men came to a halt, both throwing clumsy salutes. They knew Roy well enough to know that he valued what they had to say over appearances, and Breda began to speak without any urging. 'The building's clear of people, but there's plenty of ways out of this place. It looks like this was more than just a meeting place. Lots of bedrooms, all with signs of people having slept there recently. We found another body: one of them, and recently dead.'

'Like the others?' Roy asked, frowning as Fuery shook his head.

'His throat had been cut like a victim, but he's wearing the same grey robes. He was in the cellar in a cage, Sir. That police woman and Hughes are overseeing the evidence collection.'

'Tell them to find the library,' Ed cut in, grimacing as Juliet shushed him furiously and stuck one finger in her half-deafened ear. 'We need to know more about the alchemy, that's all.' He glanced over at Roy, and there was no doubting what Ed was leaving unsaid. If it turned out the array had done something to them, then the best way to find out what had happened would probably be in the priest's notes.

'Will do, Boss,' Breda said, raising an eyebrow when Juliet lifted a hand in an imperious demand for silence. She was still listening intently to Ed's chest, and when she looked up her expression was baffled.

'Do you feel dizzy or short of breath?' she asked, pursing her lips when Ed shook his head. 'You've got no strange pains in your chest? Were you hit directly in the ribs?'

'No, why?'

Juliet folded up her stethoscope, shoving it in her bag before digging in her pocket and pulling out what Roy assumed were the keys to the ambulance. 'You've got an erratic heartbeat. It's not serious, at least not yet, but you need to be under observation.' A faint flicker of a smile crossed her lips. 'Looks like they won't be throwing you in a jail cell any time soon. If you'll both buckle yourselves in, I'll get you to the doctors.' She stopped, raising her voice to the assembled officers still surreptitiously standing guard.

'If the rest of you want to keep an eye on them, you'll have to follow on behind.'

'We'll be right with you, Sir,' Breda said, gesturing to both Fuery and Al as he turned to head towards one of the cars. 'Come on, you two. It looks like it's going to be a long night.'

The ambulance doors swung closed as Roy and Ed both buckled themselves in with fumbling fingers. Roy slumped uselessly in his seat as the boxy vehicle, far too much like a hearse for his liking, set off down the road. Opposite him, Ed sat in silence, staring blankly at the bright white stripe of bandage around his wrist. He looked as if he was miles away, lost in the mystery of his thoughts, and Roy held his tongue rather than interrupt.

Breda was right: it was going to be a long night, and this was probably just the beginning.


	5. Chapter 5

Hospitals all smelled the same, tainted with the scent of antiseptic and desperation. Ed loathed everything about them, from the stiff, white sheets to the vacant, hopeless doctors who kept poking him and asking stupid questions. If it were not for Al's unmoving presence at his side, Ed would have found a way to sneak out and crawl home to his bed, but there was no way his little brother was going to let him leave, not until the staff finally pronounced him fit and healthy.

'I feel fine,' he growled for the sixth time, scowling as the nurse pulled a doubtful face and dragged the blanket and sheets up to his shoulders. 'I don't need to be here.'

'Brother, it's just for tonight. If your heart's back to normal by tomorrow then they'll let you leave. Considering what happened...' Al trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment, and Ed knew precisely what his brother was thinking. Him and Roy, they had been lucky. Ed knew too well what the Gate could do, how it could rip you apart and shake you down. To come out of that with nothing but a stuttering heartbeat was practically a mercy.

With an irritated grunt, he rolled onto his side, letting his eyes fall on Mustang. Unlike Ed, he had not yet been forced into a stupid hospital gown. He sat on the other bed nearby, bare-chested, with the dark blue of his uniform pants standing out against the crisp white bed linen. A doctor bent over his exposed wrist, face puckered in a frown as he traced the lines. Roy's face twisted with a flicker of pain, but he did not complain, just met Ed's eyes with a worried, lopsided smile.

'This is not normal,' the doctor said at last, reaching for a clean bandage and setting about binding the graceful line of Roy's arm. Ed watched as cotton swathes obscured the pale flesh and dark lines of the array. Unlike his, nothing seeped through to mark the fabric, and Ed chewed on his bottom lip, trying not to dwell on the slow, creaking theories that drifted through his mind.

Ever since he had woken up from the transmutation, Ed had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. No matter what he said to the contrary, he did not think the Gate had left himself and Roy untouched: it had taken too many lives for that. Now they were both left waiting, wondering when the full force of the alchemy would strike.

Binding two souls together should be impossible, but if Ed had learnt one thing over the years, it was that anything could be achieved if the right mind were applied to the problem with enough force. All it took was one alchemist to conceive the concept, and this was the result: arrays carved on wrists and dozens dead in the name of equivalent exchange.

Then there was what he had seen between the gaping doors of the Gate. Shadows and hope, light and despair, all that and more had carved its way along the interface of that threshold in the past, but never had there been anything as intensely symbolic as the vision that had danced in front of his eyes earlier tonight.

Within that endless night, two bright rings had glowed into existence. Each had been huge, taller than Armstrong, and one burned moon silver while the other shone like sunlight. Yet they had not been two separate entities: Both were linked together, irreversibly connected as if they had been carved from the same whole. Was that meant to be him and Roy – a representation of their separate souls beginning to overlap – or had it just been a random play of light and shadow within the Gate?

Ed knew what he was hoping for, but somehow he doubted that what he had seen had been so meaningless. Tonight, he and Roy had been forced down an unknown road of power, and even with all his knowledge of the darkest facets of alchemy, Ed had no idea where the path would take them. Until he knew what he was looking for and could better understand the array that had been used, he could not even begin to grasp whatever process the Gate sparked into life, let alone reverse it.

Belatedly, Ed realised the doctor was saying something to Roy, and he blinked himself back into the conversation. 'I see no reason why you can't go home tonight, Brigadier-General. You seem to be in relatively good health. I recommend taking some time off work to recover your strength, but there's really no point in keeping you here.'

'Actually, Sir, I don't think going home would be the best idea.' Hawkeye's voice was quiet but strong as she walked into the room, standing to attention as she delivered her report. 'We were unable to find any of the people responsible for what happened to you and Edward. There's no guarantee they won't return for a second attempt.' She lifted her chin, her eyes flashing as if silently daring anyone to try and get past her. 'Rather than spreading our resources thin to watch you, Edward and Alphonse in separate locations, it would make more sense for you to stay in the hospital, at least for tonight. Perhaps accommodation can be arranged for you all in military headquarters for tomorrow?'

Ed looked at Al, noticing the faintly satisfied smile on his little brother's face. There was no way Al would have left him here anyway, and Hawkeye had just handed him an excuse to stay at Ed's side – or at least in the same building. Roy did not look thrilled, but he accepted her suggestion with good grace.

'If you think that's best, Lieutenant, as long as the hospital can spare the beds?'

'We'll kick you out as soon as anyone needs them for more than just sleep, Brigadier-General,' the doctor said airily, collecting up his clipboard and beckoning for the nurse to follow him. 'Someone will check on the Major periodically throughout the night. If you feel any pain or anything unusual, Major, then notify us immediately.'

Ed did not bother to do more than nod. If he had been left on his own, he would have discharged himself, but that was not going to be an option, not with Al, Mustang and all of his command loitering around to haul him back to bed the moment he tried to get away. Besides, If he was honest with himself, he was tired enough to sleep anywhere, even here.

The moment his head touched the pillow, it was as if every exhausted muscle went molten. Tense knots unravelled, and a strange, buzzing heat seemed to ripple along beneath his skin like hot silk. The sensation was strangely relaxing, and he nestled deeper in the sharp smelling blankets as he listened to the sounds of people coming and going.

Noises grew tinny and distant, only penetrating Ed's exhausted mind in faint snatches as he lingered on the boundary between slumber and wakefulness, too tired to focus but not soothed enough to slip into sleep. His eyes drifted shut, leaving his other senses to keep tabs on the outside world: Rough sheets, astringent scents, and all the while the hushed conversation of Roy and his men.

'...Books and notes everywhere. All in code,' Havoc said, his voice a little hoarse. He had probably just finished a cigarette. The fragrance of the smoke lingered faintly on the edge of the air, even though Havoc had no doubt extinguished it at the front door. Fabric whispered like a far off sea, punctuated by the creak of old mattress springs: Roy shifting his weight.

'Take everything to the office; stack it up in corners if you have to. Perhaps the array we were in did nothing in the end, but if it did we're probably going to need every last page of those notes. Anything else?'

'The dead one had an array on his wrist.' Hughes' voice stabbed through the gathering clouds of sleep, and Ed dragged his eyes open a fraction, frowning at nothing in particular as Hughes carried on. 'We checked all the other bodies for the mark, but couldn't find it. Any idea who he might have been?'

Ed spoke up, his voice lethargic and husky. 'He was probably bound to one of the other victims. Fuckin' priest said there was one disciple who'd survived the murder of his –' He faltered, his head too thick to think of a decent word. 'Bond partner or some shit like that. Give the police a photo of the array – it'll match one of the corpses in their morgue.'

'Like yours matches the General's?' Al asked. It was a simple enough question, but layers of extra meaning hung in the air, thick and cloying. No one seemed willing to believe that he and Mustang had escaped unscathed. Even Havoc, who did not understand alchemy much beyond circles and destruction, looked grim and nervous, as if he thought Ed and Mustang were both at death's door, rather than just tired beyond all reason.

'Yeah.' Ed was tempted to say more, to explain that just because the designs on their wrists matched did not mean they had ended up bound, but he doubted anyone would believe him.

'We'll deal with that tomorrow,' Hughes said firmly, grabbing Roy's sheets and holding them back pointedly. He ignored Roy's scathing look as he continued, 'Both of you need sleep. There'll be someone outside the door all night. If anything strange happens – and I don't care what it is – get help.'

'I'll just be in the next room, Brother,' Al said quietly, his tone saying loud and clear that he would not be leaving Ed's side at all if he had a choice. 'I'm not allowed to bring another bed in here, and the nurses have already told me that chairs aren't for sleeping in.'

Ed gave him a tired smile. 'Just don't go anywhere without someone watching your back,' he said, wanting to put more force behind his words, but too weary to do so. Instead, he gestured faintly towards Mustang, who was trying to beat his pillow into submission. 'I've already saved him from stupid, insane priests tonight. Don't want to have to come running after you, too.'

'I'll be safe,' Al promised. 'You just need to get better by morning. Good night, Brother.'

'Night, Al,' Ed murmured, letting out a faint sigh as the light flicked out, leaving the room bathed only in the dull fluorescent glow from the corridor. The flat, stark light created bars of shade over Roy's prone form and lit his profile, painting faint reflections in his dark eyes. He was staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, that normally smug face pinched with confusion and concern, just like it had been all night.

'You all right?' Ed's words slurred a little as he fought to keep his own eyes open. 'Thought you were as tired as me.'

He could feel Roy's gaze on him, but he did not meet it as Roy replied, his words ghosting quietly across the room. 'I've been starting to feel better ever since I got in the ambulance. I'm tired, but not as bad as I was.'

'Huh.' Ed's huff of laughter was mirthless as he relaxed deeper into the pillow, letting a sigh shiver between his lips. 'I've been feelin' worse.' Something in his brain sparked, but exhaustion dampened the gunpowder of inspiration. The strange dichotomy of what he and Roy felt was important somehow, but the pieces of the puzzle were utterly beyond his grasp.

All he could do was listen to Roy's voice, tight with more emotion than Ed had ever heard from him before, as he murmured, 'Go to sleep, Fullmetal. Go to sleep.'

For the first time, Roy uttered an order that Ed was more than happy to obey. He did not even notice when the last spark of awareness faded. Featureless, dreamless night surrounded him, as deep as a grave, and he did nothing to fight it. Exhaustion was common after a large transmutation, but never like this. Even after grabbing Al back from the Gate, there had been strength enough to carry on, but now he was a helpless casualty to his fatigue.

Time passed unacknowledged until, at last, something stabbed through the gloom. Ed's eyes fluttered open, focussing immediately on the sprawl of linoleum that stretched between his and Roy's beds. The light still buzzed in the corridor, but a glance over his shoulder at the window confirmed that dawn had not yet broken. Ed knew he had only slept for a few hours, if that, but the burning of his eyes had faded to nothing. He was wide-awake and alert as whispering instincts stirred through his body, warning him.

On assignments, he had grown used to the half-sleep of the threatened. Every sense had been trained hard to drag him out of slumber to respond to anything alien. It was a pathetic form of rest, but if it saved his life, then it was a skill he was happy to cultivate. Now, something had dragged him from the deepest pit of unconsciousness and left him, awake and tense, in his hospital bed.

Nothing sprang to his attention. Roy was curled up on his side, snoring softly as his black hair jutted in strange spikes against the pillow. He looked more human like that, and for the second time in twelve hours, Ed was struck by the older man's vulnerability. Was the bastard even wearing his gloves? What, did he think he could charm his way out of trouble? Not everyone swooned at that annoying Mustang grin.

Yet there was no danger, at least, not that Ed could see. The room was peaceful and still, unremarkable with blank white walls and the occasional scrap of furniture. For a moment, he wondered if a nurse had woken him as she came to check if he was all right, but a quick look at his chart and a glance at the clock on the wall was enough to put that notion out of its misery. No one had checked on him for a half an hour. Now, it was nearing four in the morning, and rather than relaxed and resting, every nerve he had was on-edge.

Silently, he slipped from the bed, clutching the back of the stupid gown together as he gave the room another hard glare. His previously sluggish mind shot off thoughts in every direction, and Ed craned his neck, just able to see Havoc's ear through the little window in the door. There was no way he would let anyone through who did not belong, so if the danger was not in here, then where...?

Ed's gaze fell on the window, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Most other people would have shaken off their unease as a figment of their imagination, but Ed was not that stupid. Better to check that everything was as safe as it seemed. He had not lived this long by ignoring the buzz of his instincts, and he padded closer, splaying his flesh hand on the glass and peering out into the dark street beyond.

They were several storeys up, above the dancing treetops that lined the street in front of the hospital, and Ed moved his head left and right to try and see through the canopy. Circles of light from the streetlamps danced and stuttered with the shifting shadows, but they were not enough to obscure the grey-robed figure who waited below. A cowl covered his head, but Ed could still see the priest's upturned, mutilated face, more wrecked than ever by the latest clean slice of Ed's automail blade.

It looked like he had almost taken the fucker's eye out, and Ed's teeth bared themselves in an unconscious snarl as the priest smiled blissfully, his hands meeting in a slow, mocking applause. The sound did not carry over the distance and through the glass, but Ed did not need his ears to hear it. Everything, from the far off gleam in those eyes to the twist of those thin lips spoke of admiration over anger. The priest may not be happy about what had happened, but he was still impressed by the result – as if he knew exactly what the future held.

Tense fingers curled into claws against the windowpane, and only a sudden movement from the priest stopped Ed from dashing out of the hospital to shake the answers out of the bastard himself. Grey robes shifted as the man knelt, pulling something from a cloth sack at his feet. At first, Ed could not understand what he was seeing, but then the priest turned the ball-shaped object in his hands around so that Ed could make out the face on the decapitated head.

Blood, black from this distance, still oozed a little from the stump of the neck, and Max's dead expression was locked in determination. Ed's stomach clenched in disjointed horror as the priest shrugged and dropped the head onto the sack as if it were of no more consequence than rubbish. Meticulously, he wiped his hand on a cloth before lifting it in a jaunty wave of farewell and calmly turning away.

A rough sound escaped Ed's paralysed throat, a low, rumbling snarl that echoed harshly through the room. He shoved himself away from the glass, spitting curses as he lunged for the door. Havoc almost fell backwards into the room when Ed wrenched its open, and Mustang, probably already jolted from sleep by Ed's swearing, struggled upright, blinking blearily in the dim light.

'Priest was outside, and there's a head on the pavement,' Ed snapped, not bothering to wait for anyone to start asking questions. 'Move, or he'll be gone!' Havoc and Breda did not need telling twice, but before Ed could follow them, Hughes stepped forward to block the doorway. 'Let me go,' Ed demanded, clenching his teeth when Hughes simply raised one eyebrow and shook his head. 'For fuck's sake, why not?'

'Because your heart's not up to it, and there are plenty of people here to chase him down for you. You're not going anywhere without a doctor's clearance.'

'Besides,' Roy said from behind Ed, and despite everything there was a faint hint of a smile in his voice, 'that gown is not exactly suitable for giving chase through the streets.'

A furious blush exploded on Ed's cheeks, and he pulled the back closed over his butt as he ground his teeth together. 'Then get a doctor, and get me my clothes,' he ordered, adding a grudging “please?” when Hughes did not move. 'If they say there's nothing wrong with me, then there's no reason to stay here anymore.'

'Doctor first, then clothes,' Hughes replied, looking beyond Ed's shoulder as Mustang slipped out of bed. 'There's already a uniform shirt and jacket for you on the chair, Roy, but neither of you are to go anywhere without backup. For all we know, this could be an attempt to lure the two of you out and make you easier targets.'  
  
Ed grimaced, turning his back to the wall and leaning against it as he watched Roy shrug stiffly into the crisp, white shirt waiting for him on the chair. He moved with far more grace than he had done earlier that night, and even the sparse sleep he had managed seemed to have banished the dark circles under his eyes. By the time he had done up his jacket, Mustang looked as calm and confident as always: the smug git Ed knew so well, rather than the shaken and confused victim of vicious alchemy.

'Still feeling all right?' Ed asked quietly, relieved when Roy nodded.

'If it weren't for this, I would think I had just been on holiday.’ Roy gestured with his right hand, indicating the bandaged array now hidden beneath several layers of cloth. ‘I feel better than I did before all this happened. Somehow I doubt that's the normal reaction to an enormous transmutation.'

Ed shrugged, looking out into the corridor to see a doctor approaching, his white coat flapping around him like wings and a stethoscope swinging around his neck. 'Could just be some kind of high from the alchemy. It happens sometimes. You'll probably feel like shit again before long.'

Roy made a non-committal sound, bending his knees a fraction to check his reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall and running his fingers through his hair. 'Well, I hope it can wait until we've sorted out this mess.' He straightened up as the doctor entered, and Ed was awkwardly aware of those watchful, dark blue eyes upon him as the medic slipped the stethoscope beneath the collar of Ed's gown and pressed it against his skin.

After a minute or two, the man stepped back, eyebrows raised in surprise as he shrugged his shoulders. 'It would seem the Major is right. His heartbeat has stabilised. It's regular, and there are no obvious ill-effects.'

'Is that normal?' Roy asked.

'Palpitations can go away by themselves with adequate rest and hydration, as long as the cardiac rhythm is not seriously disturbed. However, if you experience anything unusual – dizziness, chest pain, anything like that – you should come and see me immediately.'

Ed gave a curt nod, turning towards the door to see his brother holding out a spare vest and pair of leather pants. 'I grabbed them from our place,' he said by way of explanation. 'I thought you'd probably be needing them.'

'Thanks, Al.' Ed took the bundle and, still holding the gown together at the back, made his way to the bathroom so he could change with some element of privacy. Every moment was another delay, but Ed had known almost as soon as he had stepped away from the window that they were not going to catch the priest. He might be strange, but he was still intelligent. He was probably already on his way out of the city, going to ground until everyone had forgotten all about the Cut Throat Killer.

Everyone except Ed.

Tugging on the black vest, he pulled the leather pants up around his hips. Al had not thought of underwear, but Ed had gone without before. At least his little brother had remembered to bring the spare pair of old, battered boots. They still had a hole in the sole that Ed had not had the chance to fix, but they were better than nothing, and he shoved his sockless feet inside, leaving the laces trailing as he emerged from the bathroom. He did not need a mirror to drag his hair back in a rough ponytail, and he was just fastening the band around it as he walked back to Roy's side, where Hawkeye was talking in a low, urgent voice.

'Priest got away,' Al muttered to Ed, 'but he left the head behind. The military's closing off the train-lines and putting up roadblocks.'

'Won't do much good. Fucker's probably already gone. Where's the head?'

'Still outside.' Al raised his eyebrows, falling in at his brother's side as Ed turned towards the stairs that led towards the exit. 'Didn't you see enough of it when he held it up?'

Ed shrugged, then shook his head, his hollow footsteps echoing down the stairwell as he trotted down the steps. 'He was four floors down. There might be more to it than what I could make out from that distance. Besides, it was brought here for a reason. He wanted me, or maybe Mustang, to see it. If he was just killing off a failure, he would have hidden the body, not paraded bits of it in the street.'

Al stayed quiet, and Ed could feel the waves of shivery fear coming off of him. Alphonse had never been a coward – had been through so much over the past few years to blink twice at danger – but now there was no disguising his uncertainty. However, the threat to Al’s personal safety was probably not the cause. More likely he was worried for Ed’s sake.

'It's just a head, Al,’ Ed said softly. ‘What could it do?'

'Maybe Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes is right. Maybe it's just a way to get you out in the open so they can attack again.' Al sighed, keeping pace with Ed easily as they came to the bottom of the stairs and headed towards the exit. 'I just think we're lucky that you and the Brigadier-General are all right. I don't want to give anyone the chance to change that.'

Ed took a deep breath, glancing pointedly over his shoulder at Mustang, Hughes and Hawkeye, as well as a couple of police officers, who were following a dozen paces behind. 'It's not like I'm on my own, Al, besides, the street's crawling with soldiers and cops.' He gestured out of the plate glass doors to the milling bustle beyond. Different uniforms added texture to the night, and he watched as another group scurried off, no doubt doing their best to try and track down the priest. Not that it would do them any good.

'It was a policeman who got you into this mess, remember?' Al pointed out. 'You were taken right out of the station and to that church. If one of them was on the killer's side, then who's to say any of them are trust-worthy?'

Edging through the people, Ed frowned, remembering the confusion and panic when the attack went down at the station. 'I think Max was one of a kind,' he replied. 'Someone sent to infiltrate the police so that the priest had a man on the inside of the force investigating the murders. It was a clever move, but I don't think it did Max any good in the end.'

'Why?'

'It's his head.'

Ed stopped at the sack-wrapped bundle. Someone had covered up the gory spectacle again, and Havoc, Breda and Fuery were standing guard. Anders was nearby, arguing with a couple of stony faced military police – something about evidence and the chain of custody, and he dimly heard Hughes ordering them to let her through.

Mutely, Ed hunkered down next to the pile of fabric before flipping back the cloth. Soldiers were used to brutality like this, but only on the battlefield. Such things were not meant to be found in Central's streets. He could feel the taut, sick taint to the air, and Havoc's gun rattled a little as he shifted his grip on it. 'If it moves, blinks, anything like that, I'm shooting it,' he said, chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette.

'This is not a horror movie, Lieutenant,' Roy said calmly, pausing a step behind Ed's left shoulder. Anders hovered to his right, both of them flanking him, but Ed barely paid them any attention. He was too busy taking in the last things Max had to tell him. Maybe it would not be that accented voice that spoke the words aloud, but Ed could almost sense Anders picking up the same salient points that he was.

She knelt at Ed's side, leaning closer for a better look The blood on the floor must have been seeping into her stockings, but she seemed not to notice. 'He looks like he was expecting it,' Anders said quietly, tipping her head and pulling a face as she took in the neat, smooth line of the wound. 'No hesitation marks either. This was probably done with one blow.'

'He was a big man,' Hughes pointed out. 'It’s hard to cut through a neck that thick in one move with a standard weapon.'

'There's dust in his hair,' Anders said, and there was a hint of a wobble in her voice. 'His head rolled on the floor, rather than being caught.' She bit her lip as she sat back on her heels, scrubbing her hands over her face. 'I have to admit, Major, I thought you must have mistaken the identity of your abductor when you said it was Max. He was a good police officer.'

'Yeah, well, he was a good disciple for the priest, too. Mustang, didn't you say the guy who took you had an accent? What time was it when he grabbed you?'

'He definitely wasn't Amestrian,' Roy replied, 'and it was about dinnertime. Six, maybe seven in the evening.'

'Whereas the attack on the police station began at half-past ten.' Anders nodded, no doubt filling in the gaps for herself. 'He had plenty of time to take the Brigadier-General and then come back to the cells for you. I just – I suppose I thought I knew him, and it turns out that I didn't have a clue.' Anders got to her feet, not bothering to brush off her skirt as she raised her voice. 'Let me know as soon as the officers searching Max's apartment get back. I need to know about everything they might have found.'

Ed blocked out Anders' continuing orders, letting his ears turn deaf to them as he leaned a little closer to Max. There was something wrong with the line of his jaw: a thin, horizontal ridge beneath his bottom lip looked distinctly inhuman. Ed had done more disgusting things than stick his fingers in a dead man's mouth, and he reached out to peel Max's lips apart.

A roll of paper nestled against his teeth, rolled up thin like a cigarette. It was not even damp, although a faint mist of blood had speckled the creamy parchment. Had it been in his mouth when he was killed, or put there afterwards? Easing it free with his automail fingers, Ed glanced up at Mustang, whose eyebrows were both raised in obvious surprise.

'Deputy Inspector,' Roy called out, his commanding voice carrying easily. 'You might want to see this.'

Ed could feel Anders watching him as he unfurled the narrow piece of paper. It was longer than a normal page in a book, and Ed blinked down at the dense, neat handwriting, skimming through the text with ease. 'It's a suicide note,' he said after a moment, holding it out for Anders to take. 'Mostly, anyway.'

'He did this to himself?' she asked, staring back down at the head. 'Is that even possible?'

'Perhaps his head was cut off after he died?' Hughes asked doubtfully. 'Although there seems to be too much blood around the wound for that.'

'Does it say anything else? Anything that might help us understand exactly what happened to us and why?' Roy folded his arms as Anders shook her head, her eyes darting back and forth as she read every sentence.

'He does confess to the abductions, but nothing else is mentioned beyond the fact that his life is forfeit for his failings.' Her shoulders slumped as she glanced sideways, clearly torn between self-reprimand for failing to see through Max, and grief for the loss of someone who had still been one of her men. 'We need to find his body. The state of that could tell us more.' She lifted her chin as if daring the military personnel to judge her on her following words. 'That, and I would like to give him a decent burial. He may have been involved with these murders, but I can't believe it was ever him who held the blade.'

'Just the man who delivered people to the killer,' Roy said quietly, his voice low and threatening. 'Someone in your command was more loyal to a religious cult than he was to your service. I know you won't lose sight of that, Deputy Inspector.'

'No,' Anders pursed her lips, 'but I won't forget what I knew of him, either. Max was the kind of person who would only devote themselves to a very worthy cause, like justice. Whatever message this priest conveyed, it had to be a strong one. Max would not have bowed to anything less.' She looked at Ed expectantly, as if she thought he had all the answers.

He could only shrug, almost as clueless as everyone else. 'They didn't tell me much of anything,’ he murmured. ‘All I know is they kept calling me "My Lord" and going on about the power of the soul and alchemy. Whatever their religious backing was for that, they never got around to sharing the details.' Stiffly, he got to his feet, wincing as his right knee clicked and his back twinged. No doubt the hospital bed was to blame, but he still flinched as he stretched out his spine. 'We need to find out who the priest is. Once we've got that, then we've got something to work with. The bastard's no foreigner, he was Amestrian. There's bound to be a record of him somewhere.'

Hughes scratched his chin, and Roy's calm demeanour gave a faint, uncertain twitch. 'Without anything to go on, it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack, but we can give it a try,' Hughes said. 'Intelligence is good at that kind of thing. Ed, if you can put together as strong a description as possible, it'll improve our chances.'

He clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together as if he were cold. 'For now, I think we need to organise this man hunt.' He huddled deeper in his coat, green eyes intelligent behind his glasses. 'Roy, Ed, I know you want to be part of this, but you’re still in danger. Hawkeye's organised rooms for you both in headquarters, as well as Alphonse. If you need anything from your homes, then take two military and two police officers with you. Don't linger, and don't let your guard down.'

'We don't have time for that now,' Ed replied. 'We might as well help. The sooner we catch this bastard, the sooner we're safe.'

'I'd rather do both,' Hughes said firmly, more authoritative than friendly. 'As head of Intelligence, I'm in charge of keeping you both in one piece and bringing the priest in. Sorry, Ed, but that's the way it is. Neither of you will be taking an active, pursuing role in this investigation if I can help it.' He looked from Ed to Roy and back again, and Ed knew the older man would stick to his guns. Intelligence worked in funny ways: they were the only division in the army who could tell the Fuhrer what to do, and that meant that not even Roy could officially countermand Hughes' orders in this case.

Still, that did not mean Mustang was happy with the situation. Dark blue eyes met and held Ed's gaze, and he did not need any kind of soul bond to understand the slant to Roy's expression. Any cooperation with Hughes’ orders was only temporary. If the situation changed for the worse, then he would go against the wishes of anyone, even his best friend.

'I'll take Breda and Fuery and get some things from my house: clothes, the essentials,' Roy said at last, straightening the lapels of his coat and turning towards one of the cars. 'Fullmetal, you and your brother take Hawkeye and Havoc and collect whatever you need from your apartment.' He looked over his shoulder, giving Hughes a sincere and knowing smile. 'The rest I'll leave up to you.'

'That would be a first,' Hughes replied, laughter lilting his words, but it soon faded as he turned towards Ed, beckoning him away from the police and out of earshot of the curious. 'Go on ahead to the car, Alphonse,' he called out. I'll have your brother with you in just a minute.'

'What is it?' Ed asked, trying to ignore the prickle of unease that raced over his skin. Hughes was a trusted friend, he knew that, but the concern clouding his face seemed to be growing thicker by the second.

'How did you know the priest was in the street? I looked in on you ten minutes before that, and you were sleeping like the dead. How did he wake you up from that? Was he throwing stuff at the window? Something like that?' The hope on Hughes' face was almost painful, and his expression crumpled when Ed shook his head.

'I woke up knowing something was wrong,' Ed replied, realising now how stupid that sounded. 'The room was fine, safe, so I looked out and there he was.'

Hughes swept a hand through his hair, narrowing his eyes at the police officers a short distance away before dropping his voice to little more than an edge of words in the air. 'I listen, it's my job, and what I'm hearing from the civilian police force, and some of the military, is that this is all too convenient. You and Roy escaped when others died. The priest and his disciples ran away when they could have stayed to overpower you, and then you alert everyone to the fact a decapitated head has been left outside.' Hughes bit his lip hard. 'Some people are starting to say it's staged to make you look innocent – that you really are in on all this.'

His hands were in the air, palm out in surrender, before the first snarl of anger escaped Ed's lips. Hughes spoke quickly, shaking his head as he did so. 'I didn't say I thought that, Ed, and neither does anyone under Roy's command, but you have to see that we're all desperate for some answers.'

'If I had them, don't you think I'd give them to you?' Ed demanded, not caring who heard him.

'Then maybe I can give you something to think about. Could it have anything to do with the alchemy? Anything to do with what happened in that array? If the priest was its designer, then he could have incorporated something into the circle that activated when he was nearby.' Hughes shrugged when Ed gave him a doubtful look. 'Or not, I don't know, but it's questions like that which need answering, Ed, or people will keep pointing their finger at you.' Hughes folded his arms, looking down at the cracked pavement beneath their feet. 'The more time they waste doing that, the more chance the real culprit has of getting away with it. Alchemy is not a mystery to you, Ed. Your knowledge is what landed you and Roy in trouble in the first place. All I'm asking is that you put that brain of yours to good use and figure this out fast.'

'What the hell else do you think I'm going to do?' Ed demanded, giving a quick, irritable shake of his head as he began to turn away. 'Just watch Mustang, and for god's sake, make him put on some fuckin' gloves.'

He strode away, every step quick and angry as he barged his way through the milling people towards one of the cars. Two policemen, shadow-like and silent, fell in at his side, and Ed suppressed the urge to snap at them for their intrusion. Nothing was black and white anymore, and he was not stupid enough to believe they only accompanied him for his own protection.

A car was waiting by the kerb, and Ed could see Hawkeye behind the wheel and Havoc riding shotgun. Al was in the back seat looking pale and nervous, and when he smiled it was a shadow of his normal bright happiness.

'There's not going to be room for you two,' Ed pointed out to his so-called body-guards, frowning when they peeled off and marched over to a pair of motorcycles. The beastly machines might be black, but they were hardly discreet, and Ed would rather slip into his apartment unnoticed than have every neighbour speculate wildly about the police presence.

The twin engines came to life with a roar, and Ed rolled his eyes as he yanked open the door and slipped into the back seat next to his brother. 'Any chance we can lose those two somewhere?' he muttered, folding his arms when Hawkeye glanced in the rear-view mirror and shook her head.  
  
'They're for your own protection,' she pointed out as she calmly pulled away, guiding the military car through the peaceful night streets. 'They may have their own motives for keeping you alive, but at least we all have that goal in common.'

'What did Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes say to you?' Al asked quietly, a frown crossing his brow when Ed hesitated, teetering a moment too long between the truth and a lie. 'Brother, I'm in this too. You can't keep it all to yourself and pretend nothing is happening. I won't let you.'

Ed had no doubt about that. Roy might be a master manipulator, but Alphonse was the best at getting the desired result out of him. All it took was a look, a quiet word, or plucking a certain guilty heart-string, and he caved. It would have been humiliating, except that Ed held the same power over his little brother. He could read him with ease at any given moment, and now it was Al's quiet, fearful determination that told him there would be no way to shrug off the question.

'He wanted to warn me that some people think things are turning out too convenient. Not everyone's convinced I'm not really behind the murders.' He paused, teeth clenching in annoyance. 'There's too much I can't explain.' It rankled Ed to admit that. He spent most of his life chasing the answers, but this whole situation went far beyond the realms of comprehensible alchemy, even to him. It was not just about transmutation or equivalent exchange. The priest had dragged religion into it, and without understanding that, Ed doubted he would be able to grasp the truth behind what was going on.

'When we get to the apartment, you grab the books and I'll get everything else,' Al said, and Ed could not help but smile at the confidence in his voice. 'If we're going to be stuck in headquarters, at least we can read up on this and find out if what he said is really possible.'

In the front of the car, Ed noticed that Havoc and Hawkeye were both smiling, just faintly – the corners of their mouths pulled up a fraction as they cruised through the streets with the police escort droning along behind them. It was almost like old times, except that now Al was whole and human, no longer indestructible armour but something far more fragile. Besides, his life was not in the military anymore, unlike Ed's.

'What about school?' Ed demanded, raising his eyebrows stubbornly when Al just pitched him a dark look. 'You can't just show up to class when you feel like it, Al. They'll kick you out.' Except they probably would do no such thing. The university knew already what a gift they had found in Al – so young and talented. They would probably bend over backwards to accommodate him, and Al's next words confirmed Ed’s suspicion.

'I talked to my tutors today. I've been granted an indefinite leave of absence until this is over. You're not getting rid of me that easily, Brother.'

For the first time in what felt like days, an honest smile crossed Ed's lips, and relief was like a drifting feather in his chest. As much as he wanted to keep his brother safe, Ed was glad to know he would not be alone. 'Thanks, Al.'

He leaned back in the car seat, watching the street lamps skim past as they continued on their way. Part of Ed thought he should feel something beyond the flatness of anger and frustration, but it was as if every other emotion had been hidden away, bottled up and pushed down for a more appropriate moment. After all, fear, grief, pain – none of that would do him any good – not now.

More than anything, he needed his wits about him. What the priest was doing was not just about Ed getting in his way, or being a handy target: it was personal. The normal shit Ed got caught up in was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or acting on the military's orders. This time it was about more than that, and he doubted that the scarred fucker and his disciples would give up their prize so easily. Maybe they would withdraw to regroup, but sooner or later, they would be back, and Ed knew he had to be ready for the shit they would bring with them.

Knowledge was a formidable weapon, and Ed had every intention of arming himself to the teeth.

Quietly, the car pulled up outside the apartment building, and Ed and Al slipped out in unison, slamming their opposing doors behind them. Hawkeye and Havoc emerged with their guns drawn and ready, both giving the peaceful building an appraising glance. 'We'll go first,' Riza stated, holding her hands out for the keys, both to the main hallway and the flat itself. 'If you two could bring up the rear, I would be grateful,' she added, talking to the two police, who only nodded their silent agreement. 'If anything goes wrong...'

'We'll run,' Al finished for her, and Ed knew his brother would not hesitate to drag him away rather than let Ed stay and fight. 'You think someone might be waiting for us?'

Hawkeye shrugged, a graceful movement that did not disturb her grip on her firearm as she slipped the key into the lock and nudged her way inside. The building itself was silent. It was so late at night that it could almost be early, and Ed knew his neighbours would probably be asleep in their beds. There was no chatter of any radios left on in the apartments they eased past, and no sound of life beyond the harsh fluorescent buzz of the lighting.

Before Hawkeye entered their apartment, she checked the door-frame, no doubt looking for any sign of forced entry. Ed watched her run bare fingertips over the wood, and smiled to know how well-trained Roy's men were. These days, it was automatic to look for traces of alchemy, as well as more physical means, but Hawkeye's skin remained unblemished by lingering chalk dust.

Havoc was pressed to the door at Hawkeye's shoulder, his eyes unfocussed and his breathing calm, and it took a moment for Ed to realise he was listening for any noise in the rooms beyond. At last, he shook his head, and Riza shifted her finger around the trigger as she slipped the key home and twisted it, letting the door swing inwards.

Immediately her gun twitched upwards, ready to fire, but there was nothing there that needed shooting, just the usual mess of books and paper, the tired but very comfortable sofa and the cool hearth at the far end of the living room. That morning's mugs were still on the coffee table, utterly undisturbed, and apart from the ticking of the clock in the kitchen, Ed could hear no sounds of life.

'Stay here,' Havoc ordered, already creeping forward with Hawkeye at his side. It was a dance Ed had seen them perform enough times in the past: search and destroy. They would check every room, not that there were many, and until they gave the all clear, he had to stand here on the threshold feeling frustrated in his uselessness.

Shifting his weight, he noticed that both the policemen were watching him coldly, and one glanced along the empty corridor as if daring him to run. Ed simply glared at him, turning his head back to the apartment as Hawkeye called out the all clear.

'No one else is here. You've got ten minutes to get what you might need.'

'Want any help?' Havoc asked, holstering his gun and leaving Riza to wait: a calm sentry. 'She's not kidding. She'll shove you out the door in ten minutes flat.'

Al told Havoc to empty out the fridge of anything that would go bad while they were gone, and Ed strode towards the bookshelf, picking up a cardboard box as he did so. He and Al had moved in here months ago, but somehow never got around to really unpacking. Both of them were painfully used to living out of a suitcase by now. Besides, boxes were cheaper than furniture.

He moved along the shelves with speed, scowling at every title as memories of each book's contents flashed across his mind. Any that could be even remotely useful were plucked and thrown in the box in his arms while the others were left to lean drunkenly into the gaps left by their missing brethren. Ed usurped wobbling towers of textbooks and scrabbled through paper as his muscles began to ache and complain over their burden. Worse, the tiredness was coming back, creeping in like smoke under the door to fog his head with thick, grabby hands. By the time he stumbled back towards the door, Al was already waiting with a suitcase in each hand.

Their eyes met, an unspoken question lingering between them. They had left the place they called “home” behind before, and in reality this time was no different. At least they were not burning this one down in their wake. 'Let's get going,' Ed said quietly. 'Headquarters will be safe, and the food's free, even if it does taste like crap.'

Al's smile was as bright and innocent as always, and side-by-side they clattered down the stairs with the others in tow. It was only as they reached the exit that Havoc and Hawkeye overtook them, both too knowledgeable to become complacent. Just because the street had been empty when they arrived did not mean it was still safe out there, and Ed waited impatiently for them to satisfy their caution.

Finally, he and Al were allowed to load up the boot, and Hawkeye turned to the two police officers just before she climbed in the car. 'If you wish to follow us to the perimeter, then please do so, but you won't be allowed access to military headquarters,' she said firmly. 'Perhaps it would be better if you returned to Deputy Inspector Anders for further instructions.'

'We'll follow you as far as we can, Ma'am,' one of the officers said in a roughened voice, already turning towards his bike. 'I'm sure the Deputy Inspector is negotiating for our clearance on the base.'

Hawkeye's brow twitched downwards. To anyone who did not know her, it was almost imperceptible, but everyone in the office knew her expressions by heart. They were often the only warning anyone got before she reached for her gun. 'Then ride safely,' she said at last, her voice smooth and non-threatening as she slipped in behind the wheel and started the engine.

'Do you think they share a brain or something? Havoc asked casually, glancing in the rearview mirror to take in their escort. 'That's the first thing either of them have said all evening. It's kind of creepy.'

'The police have never liked the military,' Hawkeye replied coolly. 'We limit their funding, rule their city and steal their minimal glory.' She turned the wheel, guiding the car around one corner after another as she headed for the white tower of Central Command. 'That, and the military is always treading on their toes with big heavy boots. This whole situation is going to be a jurisdictional nightmare.'

'I thought we were the ones in charge,' Ed asked. 'That's what Hughes said when Warner tried to arrest me – again.'

'We are, but they will fight it tooth and nail. It's in their nature.' Hawkeye's brown eyes met Ed's gaze for a second in the rear-view mirror, and all the concerns of the day burned bright and clear in her eyes. 'I know you're used to doing things your own way, Edward. The Brigadier-General is the same, but for once you two would be better off if you let someone else sort out this mess.'

'Kind of hard when we're in the middle of it,' Ed pointed out quietly, leaning his forehead against the ice-cold glass of the window as they eased past the sentries. Within moments they were waved past, and Ed just had time to catch the two police behind them being stopped before the car turned a corner and pulled out of sight.

'You might be in the middle,' Hawkeye replied, 'but you're not on your own. We’re here to keep you safe.' Smoothly, she parked the car, flicking off the engine and undoing her seatbelt. Arching her hips, she pulled another set of keys out of her pocket and held them out for Ed to take. 'The General got a suite, but I'm afraid your rank only really stretches to a bedroom and bathroom.'

'Could be worse,' Al pointed out when Ed groaned. 'Could be a dormitory.'

'Do you even remember what those beds are like?' he asked, shaking his head when he remembered. 'No, of course, not. You didn't need to sleep.'

'I've seen you fall asleep on benches before,' Al retorted. 'And you snore wherever you are. I'm sure we'll manage, Brother. How bad can it be?'

Ed remembered all too well, but he held his tongue as they got out of the car and retrieved the few possessions they had brought with them. The walk to their room along familiar, institutional corridors did not take long, and once they were inside Havoc and Hawkeye headed for the office, leaving Ed and Al to make themselves at home.

Pushing open the door to their tiny room, Al grimaced, and Ed struggled to hide a Mustang-like smirk at his brother’s expression. Clearly Al really had forgotten what military quarters were like.

Twin beds, fragile and with thin mattresses, took up most of the space, illuminated by a bare light-bulb overhead. A minuscule bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet, and a fair amount of mildew was the only other thing the room had going for it, and Ed snorted back a laugh as he dumped the box of books on the bed closest to the door.

'I'm cleaning the bathroom,' Al said decisively, casting a quick look out of the window at the silver light of encroaching dawn. 'It's not like there's much point in going to sleep now anyway.'

'Whatever makes you happy, Al,' Ed replied, shaking the wafer-like pillow to give it some life before using it to cushion his back from the iron headboard. He stretched his legs out along the bed, reached into the box and grabbed a book. Al sloshed water and busied himself with trying to make their temporary sanctuary a bit more like home, and bit by bit, Ed lost himself in the dense black and white of the page.

There was work to be done and, as always, he rose to the challenge.


	6. Chapter 6

The world could end, and there would still be paperwork, Roy thought gloomily as he surveyed the topography of his desk. Files lay in stacks, forming pillars that wobbled every time he breathed, and one had already fallen to coat the mahogany wood in a fine veneer of neatly typed pages. Just because he had been abducted and shoved through an array like meat through a mincer did not mean that his responsibilities as a brigadier-general had ended. That was why he was here, putting his signature on the dotted line as usual, rather than taking some rest as the doctor had suggested.

Not that he actually needed it. Disturbingly, after the initial crystalline chill of shock had dispersed, he felt fine. The only ill effects he seemed to have suffered, other than the array on his wrist, was a certain stiffness in his right shoulder and a faint, nagging ache around one of his knees.

Roy shifted, stretching out his left leg and hearing the joint click. Perhaps it had always done that and he was only just noticing. After all, he thought with a wry smile, he was not in his twenties any more. Age was probably just sneaking up on him – that was all.

He tried to believe his own assurances, but doubts still lingered in his mind. At least his men appeared to think that he and Ed were unharmed by the events of the abduction. With each passing hour, it felt as if some of the tension in the office dissipated. Delayed effects of transmutations were rare, and as time passed it became easier to believe that they had experienced a lucky escape.

Yet in the darkness of the night, alone in his suite, Roy wondered if he was fooling himself, thinking nothing had changed. Alchemy was unpredictable, and the priest’s work dabbled in an unknown arena. Ed and Alphonse were both working to decode his notes, but the cipher was complex, and any factual help remained elusively beyond their reach. All he and Ed had to go on was how they felt, and there nothing rang alarm bells for either of them.

All they could do was wait, and in the meantime there was plenty else to be keeping them busy. Almost hourly, more police arrived at the office with questions for him and Ed. Hawkeye kept returning to him with further security measures for his personal safety, and Falman and Fuery had taken it upon themselves to relay every inkling of fact or whisper of rumour they heard pertaining to the cult. Even Hughes had been conspicuously absent, too busy to even plague Roy with his latest clutch of Elysia photographs.

Roy sighed, tapping his pen against the file in front of him. By now it was clear to everyone that the priest and his disciples had slipped out of Central. Their escape suggested an organised individual in the lead. It would not take much to ditch the robes and vanish in the morning commuter rush. From what Ed had said, the disciples had not been distinctive: regular men and women who could lose themselves in a crowd. They would probably meet up at a pre-decided location – a safe house where they could regroup and plan their next steps.

No doubt their plot would involve the Elrics. Even if it were not for what Ed had said about the priest’s plans for him, anyone with eyes could see that he was at the centre of all this: not the perpetrator, but the prize. He and Alphonse were important to the cult somehow, and to Roy’s surprise, Ed seemed to be aware of the importance of that knowledge. There was a time when he would have excluded everything but the alchemy, labelling anything beyond the array as extraneous and unimportant, and Roy wondered when Ed had matured enough to see the wider picture.

He had thought that, by now, he knew how Fullmetal behaved, from the snarl of his anger to the sharp slice of intelligence, but it seemed he was wrong. Ed was always changing, adapting, evolving, and Roy had to admit, in the silence of his mind, it was fascinating to watch. Strange he had not noticed it before.

Looking up, Roy glanced out of his office door, a smile twitching his lips at the sight beyond. For all the ways that Ed had changed since joining Roy’s command, there were just as many facets of him that remained the same, like his habit of balancing on two legs of a chair and losing himself so utterly in a book that he would not even notice if he fell.

His hair was up in a loose ponytail, and he seemed far more Ed-like in that standard black than he had in bright, shocking white. Yet it was his expression and the shadows under his eyes that caught Roy’s attention the most. He knew that look, had seen it on Ed’s face every day for years, and something in him twisted uncomfortably at those familiar signs of obsession. This might not be the search for the Stone, but Ed would throw himself into it all the same – he would bend the alchemy around his steel-sure mind until he found comprehension or broke under the strain. He had work to do, a goal and purpose, while Roy was left with nothing but boring paperwork and a sense of helplessness.

With a sigh, he reached out for another file, grimacing at the date stamped across the top. It had landed on Roy’s desk almost a week ago, and his brow drew down into a frown as he opened the dossier and skimmed the document inside before smothering the urge to roll his eyes. Apparently, a little town called Tannam had lost its only bridge over the river. The military would rebuild it, but it would take time – weeks, maybe months – while the town haemorrhaged trade and resources. An alchemist would have the repair done in a day or two, and Fullmetal could probably wrap it up in a matter of hours. Hence, Roy realised, why it was on his desk in the first place.

His first instinct was to pass it on to someone else. There were plenty of alchemists that could alleviate the town’s distress, but his conscience twinged at him. Tannam had already been cut in half for more than a week, their appeal for help lost amidst the military bureaucracy and the junk on Roy’s desk. If Armstrong were not already deployed in East City, Roy would have begged his assistance, but that was simply not an option. Either Roy could get Ed to do it today, or Tannam could continue to suffer.

Briefly, Roy wondered if it could be some kind of ploy to get Ed out of the sanctuary of military headquarters, but the timing was wrong. The request had arrived well before Ed had come to the attention of the police, and there were too many unknown factors for it to be a decent lure. For a start, if it had been deliberate they would have no way of knowing when, or even if, Roy would respond to the missive. No, this was nothing but a small town needing the assistance of the State.

Getting to his feet, Roy wandered through to the main office, dropping the file on top of the book Ed was reading. Even that interruption took a moment to filter through Ed’s concentration, and he looked up at Roy with a deep scowl, blinking himself back into reality before he asked, ‘An assignment? You’re serious?’

‘It’s less than an hour’s drive away. Take Breda and Havoc with you,’ Roy ordered, already heading towards the coffee pot. ‘Inform the police that’s where you’ll be. You’ll probably have to put up with another escort, but you can be back before the end of the day if you head off now.’

‘What about this?’ Ed demanded, waving at the books scattered in front of him. ‘I can’t do two things at once, Mustang.’

‘I can work on the notes, Brother,’ Al replied from where he sat on the opposite side of the desk. ‘Until we break the code, we’re just guessing anyway. I doubt you’ll miss anything serious just by being away for a few hours. Besides, people probably need your help.’

Roy poured strong, black coffee into a mug, smiling faintly to himself at Al’s gentle reassurances. Ed was capable of many things, but he really was a hero of the people, and he would struggle to study for his own benefit when people could be in need of his abilities.

‘I realise military politics are not of much interest to you, Fullmetal, but we can’t neglect our other duties because of what happened. Allowances will be made for our personal safety, but beyond that?’ Roy shook his head. It had taken only a matter of hours for the complaints from higher up the ranks to filter down to him, as if being the victim of attempted murder was an inconvenience, rather than a threat. ‘Keeping the brass happy by completing small assignments is a sensible choice, at least until our situation either improves or becomes serious enough in their view to warrant our full concentration.’

The rueful smirk felt utterly natural on Roy’s lips as he watched Ed’s shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. They all knew how the army worked, selfish to the core, and even Ed could see the benefit of taking the easy path. It was better to appease the high-ranking officers than become even more of a thorn in their side.

‘Anything not in here that I should know?’ Ed asked eventually, waving the file as he got to his feet. It was a question he had started asking a few months ago, as if he had finally become aware that Roy knew far more than the official documentation showed, but this time there was nothing else to explain.

‘It should be straightforward. If anything goes wrong, then get back to Central.’ Roy frowned into his mug before taking a sip of the hot, tar-like liquid. ‘I’ve already considered that this might be some kind of trap, but the timing’s wrong. Just don’t let your guard down.’ He transferred his gaze to Breda and Havoc, knowing the two men would read the unhidden message in his eyes. He trusted them to watch Ed’s back while Ed was too busy to look out for himself, and they would not let him down.

‘Be careful, Brother,’ Al said quietly. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

Ed shot him a dark look, but the faint smile on his lips lightened it to something more playful as he waved his farewell, striding out into the corridor with Breda and Havoc on his heels. ‘Break the code by the time I get back,’ he called out over his shoulder, and Roy hid his grin behind the rim of his cup as Al snorted in disbelief.

The younger Elric was already surrounded by screwed up paper: rejected attempts at breaking the priest’s cipher. His short blonde hair, more sandy than golden, stuck up at random angles where he had been running his fingers through it, and there was a bit of ink on his nose. Nevertheless, the light of the challenge still glowed in Al’s eyes, and Roy watched him drag a clean piece of paper in front of him and bend his head over his work.

He had no doubt in either Ed or Al’s abilities. They were the best – that’s all there was to it. They would figure it out in the end, although it spoke highly of the priest that it was taking them this long. Normally, such things fell apart within twenty-four hours, helpless beneath the combined intelligence of the Elrics.

Somehow, that only strengthened the faint whispers of dread that wove their way beneath Roy’s skin. This – the waiting – was always the worst part, but what else could he do?

‘Sir? These need to be finished by lunch.’

Roy fumbled his coffee mug, slopping some on his boot as Hawkeye dumped another stack of files in his arms. Each had “urgent” stamped on them with red ink, and Roy smothered a sigh. This was his role, at least for now: not the hero, not even really the leader, but a glorified secretary scribbling his name in the assigned space. No wonder some of the higher generals had their signature carved onto a rubber stamp. They must be drowning in paperwork if his workload was anything to go by.

Reluctantly, he retired to his office, clearing space by dumping stacks on the floor and settling what was left of his coffee on the blotter. His chair welcomed him, moulding to his body as he eased himself back into its embrace. Weak spring sunlight, hinting at the summer to come, crept in through the windows, and the ticking clock on the mantelpiece counted down the minutes.

Abruptly, a shiver worked its way down his spine, quickly followed by another, and Roy huddled deeper in his jacket, wincing as the stiffness in his joints abruptly increased. Clear thoughts blurred, and he glared blearily at the clock, scowling as he realised that only half an hour had passed. It felt like hours, and with every second his skin seemed to lose more heat.

Getting to his feet, he limped over to the fireplace, checking his gloves before snapping his fingers. The alchemy slammed through him like a punch, bright and harsh, and his thoughts scattered in shock as he fought to control the simple transmutation. Half the wood in the grate turned to nothing but smoke and ash in the blink of an eye, and Roy spat a curse as he fed the fire more fuel, nurturing the flames to a sustainable, cheerful blaze.

It had been years since he had struggled to control the intensity of his alchemy like that, and now the shivers became harsh and bone-deep, dragging a groan out of him as he sank into the sofa. Maybe it was ‘flu. The symptoms came on suddenly, pouncing like a predator to render its victim useless. Perhaps he had caught it at the hospital, or from the dense population within headquarters. Soldiers carried germs from one side of the country to the other, so it made sense that one of them had given him something in passing.

He debated going to Hawkeye and telling her he was sick, that he was going to lie down in his suite and get over it, but the thought of traversing the short distance to his rooms was enough to turn his arms and legs to lead. He felt fragile, as if he were made from nothing stronger than soggy paper, and it took all his concentration to drag his thick military coat off of the back of the couch and wrap it around himself.

Burying his nose in the black wool, Roy glared fuzzily at the wild, unpredictable fire in the hearth. It danced and jumped seductively, giving birth to glimmering, icy stars that flew up the chimney to be released into the sky.

The sight was enchanting and hypnotic, and Roy did not even feel his eyelids start to slip closed until a voice jolted him from half-sleep. He wrenched his neck as he turned to glare at Hughes, whose tired grin faded into concern.

‘Are you all right?’ Quick, muffled footsteps whispered in Roy’s ears, and he jerked back in shock as a dry palm pressed against his brow. Hughes’ wedding band felt like ice, and he gave a hoarse growl of protest as he tried to get away. ‘Roy, you need to tell me what’s wrong.’ Hughes said firmly, bending down until Roy had no choice but to meet that worried green gaze. ‘You don’t seem to have a fever, but you look like death. What hurts?’

Roy licked his dry lips, snuggling deeper into his feeble nest as he muttered, ‘Everything. Throat, head, arms, legs, back…’ He let his head drop back onto the soft, loving cushions behind him. ‘Just want to sleep. Feel so…’ He floundered for the right word, falling silent when his mind refused to cooperate.

‘Come on,’ Hughes urged, tugging the coat aside and grabbing Roy’s gloved hands, bracing himself as he hauled Roy to his feet. ‘Let’s get you to the infirmary. Maybe you’re coming down with something, but I’d bet a year’s wages this has something to do with what happened the other night.’

He dragged Roy’s arm over his shoulder and gripped Roy’s waist, grunting with the effort. Part of Roy whimpered about Hughes’ old injury, reminding him painfully that his best friend was not as strong as he had once been, but there was no power left in his muscles to support his own weight. He felt like his insides had turned to water, and the urge for his knees to simply fold was almost overwhelming.

‘Al, give me a hand,’ Hughes called out, his voice edged with panic. ‘Hawkeye, where’s Ed?’

‘Tannam,’ Roy mumbled, blinking as the room pitched and Hughes swore. ‘Fixing a bridge.’

Alphonse’s reassuringly sturdy weight was like a tower to lean on, and Roy sagged against him as Hughes gave orders to his men: something about finding Ed – although Roy was too disconnected to grasp the significance. Everything was floating away from him like mist through his fingers, and it took all his powers of concentration simply to put one foot in front of the other. He was aware of the pale-faced worry of his men and of Al’s steady, gentle urging onwards down the corridor. The infirmary was not far, but it may as well have been miles for all the time it took.

Roy knew his breathing was funny, coming too shallow and too fast. Greasy nausea clenched in his stomach, and his muscles burned, but the worst of the pain struck suddenly, a snake bite to the heart that made him bend double, choking on a cry of pain as he clutched at his chest. Al and Hughes both bent over with him, calling out his name and asking questions that could have been in another language to Roy’s buzzing ears. Agony overcame him. It shot along every nerve and coalesced beneath his ribs. His head throbbed – too much to bear – and if it had not been for Hughes and Alphonse, Roy would probably have curled up in the corridor.

Instead rough, hurried hands pulled him upright, dragging him towards the infirmary at an almost run. His heart felt like it was about to burst, burning and bruising itself beneath his ribs. Every beat felt like its last, and when he finally collapsed down into a chair he let out a weak moan, torn between clutching at his pounding skull and his tight, battered chest.

‘Roy! Look at me!’ Hughes sounded frantic, and Roy dragged his head upwards. As soon as he opened his eyes it was like looking into the sun. White and gold bleached out the world, jumping and sparking like lightning gone mad. Hughes was just a suggestion of an outline, and the doctor at his side was little more than a ghost, barely visible at all. Questions were asked, but Roy could not answer, and he allowed himself to become lost in the haze as, drunk with pain, he was gently guided from the chair to a bed.

‘Blood pressure’s high,’ a gruff voice said. ‘Though whether that’s the cause of the pain or a symptom of it is impossible to say. Brigadier-General Mustang, what hurts more, your head or your chest?’

That was an impossible choice. Both shrieked at him, blotting out almost everything else as sensitive nerves sang their dirge. He had heard people speaking of agony so severe that death was a mercy, but he had never understood them until now. If someone cut off his head or stopped his heart from killing him with every beat, he would be grateful. Forget life, forget ambitions, all he wanted was peace.

Something stabbed into his arm, jabbing through cloth to sink a single fine tooth into his skin: a needle, he realised belatedly, and felt stupid for being so confused by the tiny pain amidst the storm of sensation. Yet already that tempest was easing. Howling pain calmed to an ongoing growl, and jagged edges smoothed out so that they slid across his nerves, rather than slicing him apart. Now at least his next breath was not like a dagger in his chest, and it no longer felt as if someone was crushing his skull. In fact, everything was beginning to take on a feathery quality, and Roy blinked up at the hospital ceiling in confusion.

‘Laudanum,’ the doctor said. He was not currently in Roy’s line of sight, and turning his head to find him seemed like too much effort. ‘Directly into the bloodstream it’s the quickest thing we’ve got. Now, let’s see if we can find out what’s wrong.’

The light flashed in his eyes hurt enough for Roy to jerk his head away, and the stony discomfort in his skull ground out a warning in his ears. Movement was not a good idea. He could hear someone pacing next to him – probably Hughes, judging from the blue sleeve that kept swinging back and forth in the corner of his field of vision – and Roy heard his best friend’s restless sigh.

‘Anything?’ he demanded. Roy did not think that the doctor had much time to make a diagnosis, a suspicion confirmed by the worn out patience of the man’s tone.

‘You bring me a man in so much pain he is unable to define his symptoms, and his body is no more informative.’ The doctor leaned over into Roy’s line of sight – a harassed, tired looking man in his forties who scowled down at Roy as if he were an inconvenience. ‘Heartbeat is normal, despite the fact he was clutching at his chest. There is no head trauma or anything to indicate a brain injury. No fever to indicate an infection or illness. Brigadier-General, can you make a noise if you can hear me?’

Roy grunted. Words were beyond him, and the fluorescent lights overhead were starting to feel like needles stabbing through his eyes and into his brain. Clumsily, he draped his arm over his face, letting the dark cloth of his jacket block it all out as he continued to listen, surprisingly indifferent to his prognosis.

‘He’s still responsive, although the laudanum will probably dull that further for a while. We’ll keep him here under observation and see if the pain returns, set him up on a hydration drip in case that helps. I’m afraid for now that’s all I can do.’

Roy heard the receding squeak of the doctor’s footsteps, quick and neat. No doubt the self-important man thought he was busy, and Roy heard Hughes exhale hard through his nose: a sure-sign that his friend’s concern was outweighing his usual good nature.

‘You still with us, Roy?’ he asked quietly, patting Roy’s hand when he managed a fractional nod of acknowledgement. ‘That’s something at least. Al, what are you doing?’

Al’s voice floated out of the darkness, somewhere to Roy’s right, and he felt a gentle hand grip his wrist and something cool wriggle its way under the bandage. The snip of the scissors was unnaturally loud in his ears, and the cool air against his skin felt unusually ticklish as Al peeled back the dressing. ‘Just checking something. If the doctor doesn’t think it’s medical, then the only other explanation is the alchemy. I’m just going to turn your hand over, General.’

Silences – the simple absence of sound – can be very informative, and Roy did not need his eyes open to know that Al and Hughes were startled by something they could see. It was written in tense lines through the air, and Roy clenched his teeth against the lingering nausea as he managed to croak, ‘What’s it doing?’

A rustle of fabric reached Roy’s ears, and he scowled at the strange noise until Hughes’ whisper reached him. ‘It’s glowing. Al, cover it up again or hide it under the blankets. I can’t do anything to stop news of Mustang’s collapse getting to the brass, but I don’t want to let the whole base know about this. It could be disastrous for both him and your brother.’

Three quiet knocks on the door were enough to make the invisible tension sharpen, but Roy could guess that it was someone trustworthy when the atmosphere relaxed a moment later. ‘I’m sorry I didn't follow you immediately,’ Hawkeye said, her voice low and discreet. The quiet snick of the door closing reached Roy’s ears, and he forced himself to focus around the nagging aches and lethargy as she continued, ‘I received a panicked call from Havoc just after you left. Edward’s been taken ill. I don’t know all the details. He fixed the bridge, although I don’t think everything went quite according to plan. Afterwards, he collapsed, complaining of chest and head pain.’

‘That’s no coincidence,’ Hughes said quietly. ‘This is not about disease or dehydration. It’s the array from the other night!’

‘I told them to take Ed to the nearest hospital, by gunpoint, if necessary, but Jean said that would not be necessary. Edward lost consciousness during the phone call. They’re getting him to a doctor.’

‘Get hold of them again and tell them to bring him here.’ Al’s order was startling in the peaceful room, and he cleared his throat before adding a quiet, ‘Please? The last time Ed and the General were well, they were in close proximity to each other. Maybe it’s not relevant, but if it is the alchemy, it’s better to have them side-by-side so we can keep an eye on both of them.’

For a moment, Roy considered dragging his eyes open, but as soon as his eyelashes fluttered the pain swarmed and buzzed inside his skull anew. Whatever was passing unspoken between Hawkeye, Hughes and Alphonse would have to remain a mystery to him, at least for now. It was more than ten heartbeats later when the lieutenant finally replied, 'I'll see what I can do, Alphonse. The police are also asking for the Brigadier-General. What should I tell them?'

'I'll deal with it,' Hughes replied, his voice edged with a heavy kind of anger that Roy knew only too well. If Hughes had one fault, it was the extent of his protectiveness. Normally, he would laugh or joke away an injury, but clearly what had happened in Roy's office had been enough to rattle him. 'He can barely even open his eyes, let alone deal with their inane questions.'

'Tell them it's a migraine,' Al suggested. 'That's basically what the doctor's thinking anyway, although it does completely ignore the symptom of heart pain,' he added in a disparaging mutter. 'If someone can bring me the books I was working on, I can stay here with the General.'

Roy considered telling Alphonse that was unnecessary, but his tongue appeared to have stopped working correctly. He had been given laudanum before, and he remembered this strange effect: the body turned numb while he remained aware inside it. Still, anything was better than being the tortured victim of all that agony, and Roy could still sense it there, like a wolf waiting for its moment to strike.

'I'll send Falman to the perimeter to wait for Havoc and Breda. We'll get your brother back here as soon as we can,' Hawkeye replied, and Roy heard the door handle clink under her grasp as she pulled it open. 'If you need anything else, Alphonse, just ask. I'll make sure the office remains functioning. Hopefully that will help to stifle some rumours.'

'Thanks, Hawkeye.' Hughes sighed and then made a double huffing sound: Roy guessed he was polishing his glasses - a habit Hughes indulged in when he was concerned. 'I'll be back here as soon as possible. If anything changes, send a nurse to find me.'

Al must have nodded, because after that, there was peace. Beyond the door were the busy sounds of a hospital dealing with the general ills of the military, but within these four walls all was calm. Roy was actually grateful for the silence, and he vaguely wondered how Alphonse knew that was what he needed. Ed would have probably talked simply out of spite.

Worry fluttered dark moth wings across his mind as he thought of Fullmetal. Hawkeye's account had probably described Roy's own downturn of health almost word-for-word, but hearing it from the outside made it sound so much worse – almost fatal. Havoc and Breda were both sensible men, most of the time, and anything that caused them to panic was clearly a reason for concern. If the alchemy were responsible, then he and Ed suffering a simultaneous collapse did not bode well. But why had the transmutation activated now? Why had it suddenly leapt upon them after hours of silence?

He could hear the gentle scratch of Al’s pencil over paper, speedy and competent. The noise took on an eerie, insect-like quality, and Roy’s breath whispered softly between his lips. He knew that this state of ease brought on by the drug would not last forever, but it was so easy to relish it. If it were not for the opiates in his veins, his concern over Ed’s welfare, the alchemy and the future would all be a hundred times more intense. Now, cotton wool shrouded every sharp corner, and the alluring darkness was steadily giving way to sleep.

The world faded, becoming something of dreams. Disjointed images ghosted over his mind’s eye, memory and fantasy alike, but none lingered long enough to impinge upon the blank slate of his emotions. The quick stab of a needle in the crook of his left arm woke him, but Al’s soft reassurance was enough to ease his brief confusion.

‘It’s just the saline drip, General. The first thing any doctor does when they don’t know what’s wrong with someone is make sure a patient’s not dehydrated.’ The creak of the chair suggested Al was shifting his weight, and the spider scrabble of his pencil had eased. ‘Try and go back to sleep.’

Roy obeyed almost instantly. He felt – with the drug’s edge of surrealism – the tides of slumber close over his head, but it was not like floating. Instead he fell down and down, through to another place where a rumbling sound groaned in his ear and something cold and hard was pressed against his forehead. It no longer felt like he was lying down, but sitting and slumped, lingering back on the edge of consciousness but not quite able to reach out and grasp reality.

A sharp jolt and shadows returned, bringing merciful oblivion with them.

He had no idea how long he was out. Laudanum did strange things to his sense of time, making clots in the flow before hours suddenly surged by. Normally, Roy prided himself on having a good internal clock, but that mechanism had fallen prey to a short-circuit, and he had no choice but to peel his arm away from his face and blink at the bland ceiling over his head.

‘Back in the land of the living, then,’ Hughes said quietly from where he sat at Roy’s side. Roy was pretty sure that it had been Alphonse in that chair before, and his confused frown was enough to make his friend’s lips twitch in a glassy smile. ‘Al’s waiting at the door for Ed. Hawkeye managed to get a message through on the long-range radios for Breda and Havoc. They’ll be here with him soon.’ Hughes pressed his lips together in a thin line, his brow wrinkled with genuine concern. ‘How do you feel?’

Roy hesitated before answering, trying to choose the right word out of the scattered mess of his thoughts. Finally, he licked his dry lips as he muttered, ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore. Just a bit dizzy and –’ A tremor worked its way through him, and he grunted his thanks as Hughes grabbed a spare blanket and threw it over him. ‘Feels like ‘flu.’

‘It’s not ‘flu. I thought you were having a heart attack,’ Hughes replied bluntly. ‘Haven’t been that scared for years. Never do that to me again.’

Roy managed a frail smile as he nestled under the coarse blanket, mindful of the needle still taped into his arm. ‘We’ll call it even,’ he replied, concentrating on getting the words out right. ‘I still owed you for when you got shot.’ He swallowed, briefly remembering that moment of utter fear. Soldiers faced death all the time on the battlefield, but Hughes should have been safe in the city. Instead, he had ended up with a bullet lodged in his chest. Massive blood loss led to a coma, and Roy had spent every day for weeks trying to function around the soul-deep terror that his best friend was slipping away.

‘A bullet wound would have been easier to deal with,’ Hughes pointed out. ‘Al’s convinced it’s the alchemy, and I think he’s right. He’s been working on the notes for hours, and I think he’s getting somewhere towards cracking the code. He and Ed’ll split it open in no time.’

‘As long as Ed’s all right.’

A noise from the corridor made Roy lift his heavy head. Through the window, he could see Havoc striding towards the closed door. He was moving in the quick, crippled pace of someone carrying something heavy, and it took Roy a moment to recognise the blanket-wrapped figure in his arms as Fullmetal.

He looked like death; it was the only way to describe it. Gone was the golden hue to his skin. Instead his face was snow pale, and his closed eyes were sunken over deep, bruise-like marks. He seemed small and child-like in Havoc’s arms, and when Hughes got to his feet to snatch the door open, he did not even pause as he set Ed gently down on the bed next to Roy’s.

The doctor was right on his heels, his expression thunderous as he came to a halt at Ed’s side, moving through the motions of an examination while berating anyone who would listen. ‘This is a hospital, not a drop-in centre. We have procedures.’

‘It’s an emergency,’ Breda snapped back. ‘Look at him! Anyone can see that!’

‘So you drove all the way here from Tannam? Why not let the doctors there deal with him? Why risk his life and drag him all this way?’

Havoc stepped out of the man’s way, arms folded around himself in an almost embrace as he growled a response. ‘Tannam hospitals didn’t have the staff or the equipment since the town bridge was knocked out. Here was the next best place.’ There was no hint of a lie on the lieutenant’s face, and Roy realised it must have been the truth. Even without Hawkeye’s orders, they would have been forced to bring him all the way back to Central.

Al was hovering in the doorway, watching intently as the doctor checked heart rate and breathing. With every moment, the scowl on the grey-haired man’s face deepened, and when he finally drew back he was looking at Ed with something like disgust. ‘Drug overdose,’ he said calmly, casting a disparaging glance at Roy’s men. ‘Didn’t you notice him taking anything?’

‘What?’ Roy’s question echoed in the small room, the only vocalisation of the shock painted over everyone’s faces. The doctor was the only one who did not seem surprised. His expression was set in the bitter lines of a man who could believe people capable of anything, and now he glanced over at Roy with a mocking grimace on his face.

‘Isn’t this the boy alchemist, the one who has been in the military since he was just a child? The things he must have seen... it’s not surprising that he would consider self-medication. With the automail as well, who knows? Perhaps he was genuinely trying to relieve pain rather than simply escape for a while.’ The doctor turned away. ‘I can give him a dose of anti-opiates. It should reverse the effects. We’ll see how much is left of him when he wakes up.’

Al moved too quickly for Roy to follow. One minute he was standing like a statue on the threshold, the next he was standing in the doctor’s way, his expression dark as he gestured back to Ed. ‘Take some blood and check you’re right.’

‘I realise this may be hard for you to believe, but all the symptoms for a drug overdose are present.’ The doctor brushed Al’s hand off his sleeve. ‘The patient is unresponsive, clammy, with shallow breathing and fixed pupils. I’ve seen it in soldiers enough times to know what I’m looking at. Anti-opiates are the best treatment.’

‘Only if you’re right,’ Al retorted. ‘If there’s nothing in his blood to remove, the cure would kill him instead.’

The doctor’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping into low, suspicious tones as he said, ‘You seem to know a lot about medication for someone so shocked at the diagnosis.’

‘I’m doing foundation courses for two degrees before I choose which I prefer. One’s in medicine.’ A shark-like grin crossed his face, cold and brutal. ‘The other’s in law. You want to risk killing my brother through negligence?’

Roy knew that it was a lie, one told with such a straight face that the doctor had no choice but to believe it, and Roy watched those lined features fall into a petulant expression of defeat. Roy watched every movement in silence as the doctor carefully drew some blood from the crook of Ed's left arm. It shone like the finest claret in the vial, catching the light as the doctor shifted it in his grasp. 'Once I've confirmed my diagnosis,' he said in a clipped voice, 'I'll be back to complete the treatment. For your sake, I hope his condition does not deteriorate before I return.'

The moment the man left the room, Al reached out for a pair of scissors, taking his brother's left hand and snipping neatly through the bandage around his wrist. Dried blood still held the dressing in place, but when he peeled it away, Roy could see the soft, dewy light charting its way over the lines. Moving his hand out from where it was hidden under the blankets, Roy looked down at the mark on his wrist. Immediately, any faint phantoms of doubt vanished. Alchemy had caused all his pain and suffering, and now it was working its sick power on Ed.

'Why is he showing symptoms of a drug overdose?' Hughes asked quietly, his voice little more than a whisper as if he thought speaking louder would make it more real. 'I thought you said it was chest pain and a headache?'

'It was,' Breda replied, waving a hand helplessly. 'I've never seen him like that before. He comes into the office dripping blood on the floor and doesn't complain, but that...'

'He looked like he was having a heart attack,' Havoc said quietly. 'I don't care what the doctor says; he's wrong. Ed hasn’t taken anything.’

Al sighed, raking a hand through his hair as he stared down at his brother's face. 'Actually, you're both right. Ed never took anything, but he didn't have to. He was already exhibiting matching symptoms to the General's, and then the medical staff gave the General laudanum.' Gold eyes, sad but unaccusing, met Roy's gaze. 'I'm fairly sure that somehow what happens to your body, also happens to brother's – at least to some extent.'

Roy blinked, trying desperately to follow as his foggy mind struggled to grasp the concept. 'How is that even possible?' he asked in a slow, cracking voice. He sounded weak and tired, and it was painfully tempting to shut his eyes and drift back into sleep, but he couldn't. Not with Ed looking like a corpse in the bed next to him.

'I could make a lot of guesses,' Al said at last. 'It's all to do with the alchemy. Maybe initially it caused the pain for both of you, but when you were treated it carried over the bond somehow to affect his body. Ed didn’t touch the drug; it just looks like he did.' He shrugged, for once looking no older than his seventeen years, sick with fear over his brother's health. 'You're bigger than him, with a larger blood volume and a full set of limbs. What was a strong dose for you is too much for Ed.'

'So why not let the doctor give him the cure?' Hughes asked.

'It scrubs laudanum from the bloodstream. If there's none there, it can cause serious tissue damage instead. None of the drug is in Ed. His body is just responding to what was pumped into the General.' Al shook his head fiercely, making an anxious gesture with his hands before dropping them to his side. 'I can't explain it. I don't think I can even prove it yet, but I'm almost sure that's the problem. The doctor's test will confirm it. There's nothing we can give Ed to make him better, because the problem’s not in him... .'

'It's in me.'

Roy's words seemed to echo unnaturally loudly in the room, and he felt the weight of everyone's eyes switch to fall upon him. Only Ed remained motionless, still breathing in a strange, shallow rhythm. It was the only sign of life from his frame. No other muscles twitched, and there was no fraction of awareness on his face.

'Why not give me the anti-opiates instead? If you're right, Ed should start to improve.' He looked up at Al, trying to understand the doubt he could see painted over his features. 'It's the logical thing to do.'

'You were given the drug for a reason,' Hughes pointed out. 'For all we know, it's all that's keeping the pain at bay.' He folded his arms, shaking his head fiercely. 'You didn't see yourself from the outside, Roy. You don't know how bad you looked.'

'Worse than Ed?' Roy asked, struggling to a sitting position and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Immediately, the room went into a barrel roll, and it felt like every meal he had eaten in the past week was returning to pay him a visit. By sheer determination, he managed not to throw up, but something must have shown in his face because Hughes unceremoniously handed him a bedpan.

'Right now? I'd say you're looking about even. For god's sake lie down.'

'Al?' Roy dragged his eyes up from his own reflection, comically distorted in the bedpan. 'The best any of us have got is field-medic training. Only half of what you told the doctor was a lie. You've studied medicine for more than six months now, and he's your brother. What do you think we should do?'

Alphonse regarded him with narrowed eyes, not sinister, but calculating, and he snatched up a piece of paper from the floor before glaring at the clock. The pencil skittered across the page, too jumpy for Roy to watch, and he bowed his head again as he waited for a response.

'An hour ago, it might have been worth it, but the drug's already leaving your system. Brother should start to reflect that soon.' Al bit his lip, and Roy could almost feel the young man's protectiveness of his brother warring with his common sense. 'There's no point in putting you at risk. At least not until we're sure I'm right.'

Roy watched Al sink into a chair, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion and worry. The past couple of days had been like something out of a nightmare, too fraught to be real, yet here they were. Worse, there was nothing they could do but watch and wait.

The burden of helplessness settled on Roy's shoulders anew, and he set the bedpan aside before sinking back to the pillows. Part of him was frantic for activity, jittery and nervous, but prowling the room was not an option. He could barely stand, let alone put one foot in front of the other. Instead, he could only nuzzle into his pillow and watch Ed's face for any sign of change. Roy barely felt Hughes tug the blankets up around him again, but the warmth swept around him like sunlight, and he let out a faint sigh of relief. He had not realised how cold he was, but now the tremors were waltzing over his skin.

Curling up tighter in the bed, Roy let his gaze wander over the unnatural stillness of Ed's body. Somehow, he doubted Ed was that motionless even when he slept. He would be the type to sprawl, or toss and turn throughout the night. Today, he was statue-still, unmoving from where Havoc had lain him almost half-an-hour ago. Alabaster had replaced the golden hues of his skin, but even as clearly ill as he looked, there was still something striking about him.

It was rare that Roy let himself really look at Ed; it was simply too dangerous. Ever since he had first noticed, with something like alarm, that Ed was turning from a boy into such an unusually attractive man, Roy had taken deliberate steps to look no deeper than Ed's brat persona. Of course, Ed made it easy. Even now, eighteen and as fully-grown as he would ever be, he was still the same. There had been some maturing to his personality, but when it came down to it, Ed's physical attractiveness did not outweigh the simple fact that he had the kind of temperament that set Roy's teeth on edge: too rash, volatile, arrogant – totally lacking in control...

Still, sometimes, the simple artistry of Ed's face and form struck Roy anew. In theory, everyone was unique, but there was something about Ed that put him above and beyond that. Normally, he burned. Bright hair and eyes, honeyed flesh and that mind beneath like an inferno of intelligence. Today was different. The only thing aureate about him was the array on his wrist, everything else seemed veiled with shades of dove white and grey, as if the life had been bleached from Ed's body.

He looked like someone locked in an enchanted sleep. There were enough fairytales about that, weren't there? Princesses put in glass boxes until their prince came along?

Roy screwed up his eyes, knowing that was a ridiculous train of thought. Ed had never been anyone's princess, and would certainly do nothing as useless as await rescue. Anyone trying to kiss him awake would probably get a broken nose for their efforts, and besides, reality did not work that way. Kisses were not magical, and nothing so simple would bring Ed back to the waking world.

Something gleamed in the corner of Roy's eye, and he focussed down on his right wrist where it lay on top of the blankets. The design still shone with warm light, but it was not that which had caught his attention. A bright line, as frail as a single strand of a cobweb, drifted through the air. It faded in and out, almost invisible, but steadily Roy managed to follow its course to where it ended in the pale flesh of Ed's wrist.

No one else in the room seemed to have noticed it. Al still sat in the chair between the two beds, his body tense and his gaze fixed on his brother's face. Havoc and Breda were standing at the end of the bed, both glaring out towards the corridor and muttering between themselves about slow and stupid doctors, while Hughes was staring at his feet, clearly lost in his thoughts.

The fragile cord glinted again, and within moments Roy realised there was a rhythm: a steady pulse of light moving from him to Ed like water dripping down a thread. Every flare matched the thud of his heart, and Roy found himself hypnotised. The silken strand drifted across his upturned palm. Curiously, he plucked it with his finger, wincing as rather than weakness he encountered something like a fine steel wire, sharp and strong. Along its length, the light hummed, and Roy jerked in surprise as Ed's next breath was a deep gasp.

Al leaned forward, calling out his brother's name, and for a moment Roy thought his simple presence would break the fine line of gold. Instead it forked, moving like lightning around Al's oblivious frame. Already it was stronger, more like a slim gold chain than a spider’s web, but no one else in the room paid it the slightest bit of attention. Was it a hallucination? A figment of his imagination?

Should he tell someone he was seeing things?

On the other side of the room, Ed let out a rough sound, and Roy lifted his gaze just in time to see Ed open his eyes. It was like someone touching a match to a dynamite fuse. Where there had been subtle tones of yellow and gold, there was now a dazzling sunlight line of saffron, as thick as Roy’s finger and almost dripping with energy. Somehow, Roy did not need to ask what it was; he already knew it in his heart. The power of the priest’s array had finally manifested.

Alchemy bound their souls together, and as Roy looked at the tether between them, growing brighter with every moment, he wondered if anything in the world would have the strength to break them apart.


	7. Chapter 7

Wakefulness came upon Ed like someone flicking a light-switch. One moment there was nothing but darkness and silence, the next, every sense succumbed to the flood. Acid and desperation filled Ed’s nose while the bright white sterility turned his vision to monotone. His body ached and whined while a thick, unusual fog shrouded his mind. Nausea rolled in his stomach, and a helpless groan of suffering caught in his bone-dry throat.

‘Brother, are you all right?’

Al’s voice was unnaturally loud to Ed’s ears, enough to make him flinch as the ache in his head thumped out a warning. Thoughts flickered across his mind like shoals of fish as the first bitter iceberg of memory arose from the depths. Mustang had sent him on an assignment, just a quick one, nothing dangerous, but even on the way to the little barely-a-town Ed had known something was wrong.

It had felt like he was coming down with something, but he had not been ill like that since he was a kid: his mother’s cool hands on his forehead and whispered stories in the dark, fever-thick night. He could remember muttering to Havoc that he was all right, getting out of the car and then...

The alchemy. As soon as he had tried to fix the bridge, it was obvious something had changed. One clap and suddenly there was too much to deal with. Not just the normal bright white and blue of his power, but surging bolts of energy licked at their edges by the brightest of flames. It had taken everything he had to keep it focussed and useful, rather than unleashing its devastating fury. The bridge had been rebuilt, glassy from the heat of the transmutation, and that left Ed fighting for control.

He managed it – must have done, since it had not blown him to bits – but afterwards the pain was unimaginable. Now, the crushing sensation in his chest had faded, and the skull-splitting agony of his head was no more than a hollow, heavy throbbing, but back in Tannam, he had thought he was going to die. The last thing he remembered was Havoc putting in a panicked call to the office while Breda held Ed upright and then...

Nothing.

‘Brother?’

Ed blinked, focussing on Al’s pale face as he tried to string together a coherent answer to the previous question. One word filled his mind, and he let it out in a plaintive croak. ‘Thirsty.’

Havoc had already picked up the jug of water from the scrappy table at the other end of the room, and Ed watched blearily as he poured a glass before handing it over to Al. Everyone was watching him like they were afraid he was on his last legs. He already knew he had scared the shit out of Havoc and Breda, but even Hughes, leaning against the wall not far away, looked drained and shaken.

Ed struggled to sit up and take the glass Al held out for him, but his body was not in the mood to cooperate. In the end all he could do was prop himself up on one elbow as he struggled not to gulp down the cool, delicious water. It tasted like life itself, but as soon as it hit his stomach the nausea intensified to threatening levels. Al took the glass away without being asked and nudged Ed back down to the pillows, his voice full of sympathy as he said, ‘If you can keep that bit down, you can have some more.’ Al’s kind but critical gaze swept over Ed’s face. ‘You look awful.’

‘Thanks,’ Ed muttered sarcastically, closing his eyes for a moment and turning his head to the side. When he felt well enough to open them again, he realised that there was more than one bed in the room. It was so reminiscent of a few nights ago that, for one surreal moment, Ed wondered if it was a dream: him and Mustang in hospital again after their abduction.

No, this time was different. If possible, Roy looked worse than he had done that night. His eyes were sunken in his face, and there was a distinctly green tinge to his pale skin. He had not said a word since Ed had woken up, and right now he did not look like he even had the strength to speak. Roy was lying on his side facing Ed, watching with dark, intelligent eyes, but something blurred the normally sharp edge of that familiar expression.

A flash of gold light caught Ed’s attention, and the frown on his forehead was almost painful as he stared at the flickering, pulsing line of energy that arced from the array on his wrist. Someone must have taken off the bandage, because now dark, scabbed lines were easily visible, suffused with diamond brilliance.

The power bled out into the air, forming a twining rope that crackled its way across the intervening space to Roy, where it took root in the matching array on the older man’s arm. He knew Roy could see it – he kept glancing down at it, and the expression on his face was some unreadable mix of horror and fascination – but no one else in the room had said a word.

‘They don’t know it’s there, do they?’ Ed asked quietly, feeling the atmosphere in the room thicken with confusion as he watched Roy give a crooked half-grimace.

‘Don’t think so. It wasn’t much thicker than a cobweb until you woke up. It has something to do with the soul bond, doesn’t it?’

Ed nodded. Logically, he had no facts to verify his certainty and no previous experience to back it up. He and Al had not even decoded the priest’s notes yet, but he still knew in the pit of his stomach that the luminous tether was an outward symptom of whatever the cult had done to him and Roy. He could almost smell the raw-ozone scent of its strength, more wild and jagged than a normal transmutation. This was alchemy in a way he had never seen it before, and Ed was helpless to do anything but stare.

‘What are you two talking about?’ Hughes asked. His voice was slow and steady, like someone trying to appear outwardly calm while inside, they were on the verge of panic. ‘If you’re seeing things, it could be the laudanum they gave Roy. If it’s effecting both of you like Al thinks, then joint hallucinations could be a side-effect.’

‘Laudanum?’ Ed asked. ‘That’s why I feel like something a cat threw up?’

Al pulled a disgusted face before waving a hand. ‘The doctor thought you’d been taking opiates and overdosed. Judging by how quickly you came out of it, I think my theory is the right one. When Roy came in with the same symptoms you had, they gave him laudanum. It somehow started affecting you too.’ He shifted closer, and Ed could see his brother’s eyes scanning the area between the bed. ‘Now tell me what you see.’

‘A bright gold rope of light between the arrays,’ Ed replied, keeping it succinct as he lifted his hand in emphasis. He knew from experience how easy it was to lose the facts amidst embellishments, and right now keeping things simple was all his tired mind could manage. ‘It’s about an inch wide, maybe a bit more.’

‘Where?’ Al swept his hand through the gap, and Ed twitched on the bed, shuddering as a buzzing sensation swept along his skin. Roy responded in exactly the same way as the energy sputtered and spark, arcing all around the intrusion like a lightning ball before returning to a straight line.

‘Don’t do that!’ Ed snapped weakly. ‘You just went right through it. It’s not a hallucination! Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not real.’ He took in a deep breath, shifting on the bed to try and ease the ache in his muscles. Theories ghosted through his mind, but he was too out of it to really focus on anything.

Of all the people in the world to end up bound to, it had to be fucking Mustang. Anger was there, a distant, simmering thing that he could not quite hang on to, and Ed struggled not to groan in misery as the questions circled around his head. Why had it taken so long for the bond to become active? What had caused it to surge into life?

More importantly, how the hell did he get rid of it?

A hard tap on the door interrupted Ed’s thoughts, and he glanced over to see a sour-faced man in a white coat standing on the threshold. Quickly, he hid his wrist from sight, noticing Roy do the same. The doctor's shaggy grey eyebrows moved down into a scowl, and he thrust his hands into his pockets as his eyes settled on Ed. ‘I see no one saw fit to inform me that the patient was awake. Does this mean you’re feeling better, Major Elric?’

Ed tried to give him a “what the fuck do you think?” look, but his head hurt too much, and instead he had to grind out a response. ‘No, I feel sick and everything aches.’

The doctor scratched at his stubble, casting an eye around the room’s occupants before he straightened up. ‘Since I was wrong, and there were no opiates in your blood stream, I want to conduct a couple more tests on both yourself and the Brigadier-General.’ He looked meaningfully at Hughes, Havoc, Breda and Al. ‘I do not require an audience. I’m sorry but you’re going to have to leave.’

Ed knew how stubborn Roy’s men could be, and right now the doctor was on the receiving end of several angry glares. No one made any effort to go until Mustang spoke up. ‘It’s all right, you can go. Hughes, I’m sure you’ll need to liaise with the police about our status, and we’re perfectly safe in the military hospital.’

Hughes looked like he had just bitten a lemon, but he managed a grudging nod. ‘I want Havoc and Breda to guard the door. I’m not taking any chances by leaving you on your own.’

‘I’ll wait too,’ Al replied, giving a shrug when Ed tried to argue. ‘It’s not like I want to go and sit back in our room on my own, Brother, and it’s easier to work here than the office. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy, as long as I won’t get in anyone’s way?’

That question was for the doctor, and Ed noticed an unusual iciness in Al’s tone. Clearly something had happened while he was out to rub them both the wrong way, because the doctor did not answer immediately, choosing to give Al a hard look before he finally bowed his head in surrender.

‘I’m sure that will be fine if you can wait in the corridor until I’ve finished my examinations.’ The doctor took a deep breath, clearly struggling to get the next words out. ‘You did a good job making me check the major’s blood. It was the right call.’

Anyone else would have looked smug. Ed knew if he had got one up on someone as arrogant as the doctor he would have rubbed his face in it for hours, but Al simply gave a polite nod of acknowledgement as he turned towards the door. ‘If anything happens, I’m just outside, Brother.’

‘So are we,’ Breda added. ‘Hawkeye’s already checking out the best way to add security if we need to, but for now no one will get past us who we don’t trust.’ He shot a dark look at the doctor’s back, and Ed suspected that the older man’s presence was tolerated as a necessity, rather than welcomed.

‘Look after each other, too.’ Hughes straightened up, giving a faint, fragile smile before glancing towards the door. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can. Unfortunately, the investigation doesn’t stop no matter what state you two are in. The police seem to come up with another dozen questions every hour, and they have yet to give us any answers.’ He ran a hand through his hair, shoulders lifting in a shrug. ‘Not that we’re doing any better. I’ll give you a proper update once you’re feeling up to it, all right?’ That last bit was directed at Roy more than Ed, and it was only when Mustang nodded that Hughes departed, closing the door behind him and leaving Roy and Ed alone with the doctor.

The middle-aged man gave them both a puzzled look, shifting from Ed to Roy and back again. Ed recognised the expression on his face. Beneath the annoyance at two inconvenient patients was the merciless spark of scientific curiosity. This doctor saw them as a problem that needed solving, nothing more.

'Brigadier-General, I would like to examine the major first. Whatever caused the overdose-like symptoms appears to be fading, but it seems they were masking other issues, at least according to what I overheard from some of your men when he was brought in. Are you well enough to wait, or do you need more medication?'  
  
Something flickered across Mustang's face. It was quick, but Ed knew what uncertainty looked like, even when it put in a rare appearance on Roy's features. A moment later, Roy shook his head. 'The pain's manageable, thank you. Take care of Fullmetal first.'

Ed shot a weakly petulant glare at the man in the next bed, but Roy's only reply was a whisper of a smile. He knew how much Ed hated doctors, and yet here he was throwing Ed to the wolves anyway. Gritting his teeth, he gave the doctor his best glare, making it perfectly clear that he was not about to be cooperative. All he got for his efforts was a rather cold smile as the doctor stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at Ed's chart.

He took his time, humming like what was scribbled on the sheet actually mattered. Ed was pretty sure the doctor was doing it to be annoying, and he let himself relax more fully into the pillows, waiting for the first question. A moment later, the doctor rewarded his silence by pulling a pencil from his pocket and poising it over the paper.

'Can you describe your symptoms as they began to appear? As accurately as possible please, Major. Try not to leave anything out.'

Slowly, Ed did as he requested. Normally he made an effort to always sound strong within Mustang's earshot. The bastard could see through all but the best masks and knew how to take advantage of any little flaw. Now, though, Ed was too far gone for that. Besides, it was not like Roy was well enough to be manipulative. With any luck, he would be too caught up in his own ill-health to notice Ed's vulnerability.

All the while he was talking, the doctor was scribbling notes, and he only hesitated when Ed stopped. 'And now?’ he asked. ‘How would you describe the pain on a scale of one to ten: one being minimal, and ten being the most agony you've ever known.'

Ed's automail fingers clicked beneath the sheets, just loud enough to be heard, and for a minute he thought he saw something like regret on the doctor's face. Using a subjective scale like that had its flaws. Some people went through their whole lives without seriously injuring themselves, while others...

Others lost two limbs and their brother all in one night.

'It was an eight,' he said coldly, not caring if his voice scraped down his throat like barbed wire. 'Now it's maybe three point six.'  
  
A small, smothered sound from the other bed made Ed glance sideways. Mustang still looked like shit, but the smile on his face was stronger as if, despite himself, he was trying not to laugh at Ed's pedantic accuracy.

'Three point six?' the doctor repeated, giving a small huff of irritation as he dutifully wrote it down. 'A solid improvement I suppose. The apparent overdose symptoms aside, what you experienced is similar enough to the Brigadier-General's condition to cause concern. It's possible you've both been exposed to something: a poison or bacteria, perhaps.' He pursed his lips, returning the chart to the bottom of Ed's bed before reaching out for a tourniquet. 'I'm afraid the last sample of blood we took will have been used up in the testing procress. One more vial, and with any luck we’ll know how to treat you.'

Ed gritted his teeth, wishing he could set the doctor straight and avoid a needle in his arm. If he and Roy felt ill because of the soul bond, then no medicine in Amestris would make it better. However, what was happening to them was something that could not become public knowledge. Not now and not ever. Fuck knew what the military would do if they knew how to bond people, and there was enough uncertainty about alchemy already without stepping onto dubious, spiritual ground.

The doctor tutted and searched for a vein while Ed stared fixedly at the ceiling, muscles tense enough to shake. He kept thinking the man would see the exposed array on his wrist and make a comment, but he paid it no attention. Finally, he decided upon a decent site and stepped closer to Ed's head, right into the dazzling line of the soul bond.

Once again, the buzzing, itching sensation shuddered over Ed's skin, and the doctor gave him an irritated look as he tried not to twitch. The needle sank in, quick and competent, and Ed struggled to ignore the screaming demands of every instinct to move away. When Al had waved his hand through the line, it had been a temporary shiver, but now it was as if his skin was vibrating at a ticklish high frequency, sparking his nerves. In the other bed, Roy curled up on himself, teeth clenched and clearly as disturbed by the sensation as Ed, but there was nothing they could say to get the doctor to move. Finally, the vial was full, and Ed struggled to keep the heavy sigh of relief inside as the doctor stepped away, leaving the bond to smooth itself out once more.

'How long's it going to take to get the results from that?' Ed asked in a croaky voice, frowning as the doctor scribbled some more notes on the vial's label before looking up. 'Are we talking a couple of hours or what?'

'A day or two. Not that it matters. I would not release patients who have recently been in such a severe condition for at least twenty-four hours – probably more.' The doctor looked down at his notes again, a faint smile twitching his lips. 'Don't think about discharging yourself either. That's the good thing about working on a military base: escapee patients are often easy to find.’ Scratching his chin, he signed before he continued. ‘I recommend you both get changed into something more comfortable. I'll get a nurse to bring in something suitable for you both. I don't need your dirty shoes all over the beds.' He tapped Ed's boots meaningfully before moving across to Roy's bedside.

'Just some blood from you, Brigadier-General. I'll remove the IV line, too.'

For the first time Ed noticed the tube attaching the drip to the crook of Roy's left arm and the needle taped in place. The sight was enough to make him cringe, and he deliberately shut his eyes before the doctor could dismantle it. He heard nothing like a grunt of pain from Roy, and when he opened his eyes it was to see the doctor was holding a small ball of cotton wool against the tiny wound and applying enough pressure to force a clot while he ran through the same questions Ed had been asked.

'How's the pain now, on a scale of one to ten?'

'About a three,' Roy said without hesitation. 'Worse when I move, but not nearly as bad as it was when I came in.'

The doctor nodded as if he expected the answer and threw the makeshift dressing away, checking the IV hole before reaching for the tourniquet once more and gesturing for Roy's right arm. 'There's probably still a little bit of laudanum in your system, but it should not be adequate to dull pain from the levels you were experiencing earlier today. That suggests that, whatever the cause, it may no longer be an issue.'

This time, Ed braced himself for the unpleasant sensation when the doctor stepped in the way of the bond tether, and he hunched his shoulders as it assailed him anew. Perhaps Roy had easier veins to work with than him, because it did not seem to take the doctor so long to get what he needed. Within a minute, he was walking to the foot of the bed and making further notes on Mustang's chart.

'I suggest both of you get some sleep. If you need any assistance, there will be a nurse nearby, and there’s a private bathroom just through that door.’ He gestured vaguely to the far end of the room before slipping the two small bottles of blood into his pocket. 'I'll get these samples to our laboratory and see if we can find out what caused these symptoms. I'll also alert the staff. If anyone else on-base presents with the same issues, then it adds weight to the theory that this is some form of contagion.'

Without a glance at either of them, the doctor turned away, moving towards the door with a purposeful stride. As soon as he opened it, Al was there, but now his face looked pinched with nervousness. He was biting his lip and a frown crinkled his brow as he peered over the doctor's shoulder and into the room.

'It's all right. They're not worse than they were ten minutes ago,' the doctor said irritably, stepping around Al and disappearing out of sight.

Al just rolled his eyes and hurried in, shaking his head to himself as he did so. 'I meant to put the bandages back on your wrists so he wouldn't see the array. What did he say?'

'Nothing about this,' Ed gestured with his arm, looking over at Roy for confirmation. 'It's like he didn't even see them.'

'He's convinced the cause is medical,' Roy pointed out, shifting his weight with a sigh and pulling the blankets up to his chin. 'The most likely reason he didn't notice the arrays is because, to him, it wasn't unusual. He's not an alchemist; he doesn't know how strange it is.'

Al walked over to the small table at the end of the room, opening a drawer and producing two neatly rolled bandages and one dressing pad. 'Maybe we had a lucky escape, but we shouldn't take any more chances. You need to keep them covered.' He started on Ed's first, putting the dressing neatly over the still angry wound and wrapping it on securely. The cloth was a startling bright white, but the bond still sprung from its surface as if it were no thicker than mist, stretching the short distance to Roy.

As soon as the evidence of the priest's work on them had been hidden, Al returned to sit in the chair, looking from Ed to Roy and back again. 'I'm going to keep working on some of the notes. One good thing about what you've experienced is that we now have some clue what the first few pages might say. A starting point's better than nothing.'

'Pass one over then,' Ed said, scowling when Al just gave him a long, hard look. 'What? I'm not going to let you do all the work.'

'You should sleep,' Roy muttered, his voice already heavy and his eyes half-closed. 'You're in no better state than I am.'

Grudgingly, Ed could admit that was probably true. He ached everywhere, and the simple act of thinking straight for more than a few minutes was exhausting. Nausea still coiled like a sluggish snake in his belly, and the idea of sitting up to read was exhausting in itself. Yet now, more than ever, they needed to know what the notes said. Al would work it out, of course he would, but Ed hated relying on others to solve his problems – even his little brother.

'The more you sleep, the better you'll feel, and the more likely they are to let you out early,' Al pointed out with a twitch of a smile when Ed grimaced. 'That's what you want, isn't it? Just get into bed properly and rest, Brother. If you're still awake in half an hour, I'll give you one of the books to read.'

Al said it in a voice that offered no compromise, and grudgingly, Ed did as his brother asked, toeing his way out of his boots before shuffling under the sheets and blankets. He had not realised how cold he was, but as the bed gradually warmed from his own body heat, he found the call of sleep growing steadily stronger. It was tempting to fight it, to stay awake out of spite just so Al would give him what he wanted, but in the end he did not have the strength.

Sleep swamped him, thick and dark, unlittered by any kind of dream. It was a beautiful kind of oblivion, and when Ed opened his eyes again it was to find the world in the firm clutches of night. The bustle of the hospital wing had been reduced to only a few nurses on night-shift. Al had gone, and Ed guessed he had returned to their room a few corridors away to catch some sleep for himself. Ed and Mustang were on their own, and he glanced over at the man sleeping in the bed a short distance away.

Dark eyelashes fanned out across high, pale cheekbones, flickering as wakefulness approached. Mustang might be asleep, but he was coming around. It was a shame, really, because when he was like that Ed was reminded all over again that this was the first man who had made his body jump with desire – embarrassing as fuck when you are fifteen and furious – but that was the truth of it. With his manipulative mind shut down and the smirk wiped off his face, it was easy to see why so many people fell over themselves to share Roy's bed.

Ed scowled over the top of his blankets, knowing there was a time when his hormones had begged him to do just that. Logic had prevailed, just about, and now when Ed looked back at it, he knew he had made the right choice. Back then he would have been risking too much. He and Al needed the military far more than Ed needed Mustang, and so he had damped down the burn, found others to have fun with, and reminded himself day in and day out that Mustang was still a bastard: good looks could not make up for that.

Maybe there was more to the man than that smug, superior attitude, but Ed had never really seen it. Even in the most dire emergency, the fucker still seemed to find the time to pick a fight – to say something in that smooth voice that made the powder keg of Ed's temper explode. No, there was no way even casual sex with Mustang could end well, but sometimes that old spark was still there, burning softly in the pit of his stomach to flare at unexpected moments.

A sigh from the other side of the room announced Roy's arrival into wakefulness, and for a split second there was only a contented, almost happy expression on those handsome features. Greg used to look like that when they woke up together in the same bed – dark hair on the pillow and happiness in his eyes – and the shock of the similarity was like a bucket of cold water thrown in Ed's face. He barely hid the sharp twitch of his surprise, and he quickly yanked his gaze from Mustang, choosing to stare at the floor instead.

'Are you all right?' Roy asked in a husky voice, propping himself up on one elbow with his hair all over the place. 'Is something wrong? Do you need a nurse?'

The fear in Roy's voice was genuine, and Ed quickly shook his head, the pillow rustling in his ear as he said, 'I'm fine. Just woke up, that's all.' Judging from the expression on Roy’s face, he did not quite believe him, but for the first time in forty-eight hours Ed was telling the truth about his health. Parts of him still ached, but the pain had receded dramatically. Maybe he was not up to fighting a chimera, but at least now he was relatively sure he could get to the bathroom without falling flat on his face.

‘Really, Mustang, I’m all right. I’m a bit weak and stuff aches, but I come back from most assignments much worse.’ He struggled into a sitting position, fighting the regimentally stiff sheets and wincing as a rivet on his leather pants dug into his hip. What he wore was great in a fight, but not the softest thing to sleep in, and Ed looked around the room before spotting a pile of soft cloth on the chair nearby.

He could feel Roy watching him as he gingerly got out of bed. The taint of nausea still lingered, but it did not intensify as he steadily let his legs take his weight. They shook a little, but felt strong enough to hold, and he gingerly hobbled over to the pile of pyjamas. No stupid gowns to leave his arse hanging out this time, and if he was going to be stuck in here for a while, he might as well be comfortable.

Tossing the bigger set in Mustang’s direction, Ed made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself with a click before sitting down on the closed toilet seat with a sigh of relief. Perhaps “weak” was an understatement. He felt like he was running on empty, but the thought of food was too much to bear. He might be able to sip some water, but anything more solid than that would come straight back up again.

The mirror to his left showed his reflection, and Ed grimaced at the sight. His hair was a wreck, and he looked hideously pale. Cracked, dry lips turned downwards at the corner, and his cheeks looked hollow and gaunt. He had thought Mustang looked bad, but he clearly was not doing any better. Whatever had happened to them had swept the feet out from under them, and now it seemed they were both left struggling to get up again.

Bracing himself, he struggled to his feet again, peeling off his vest and pants before stepping into the soft cotton of the faded black pyjamas. They had long sleeves that draped over his hands, and the pants were slightly too long, but they were a close enough fit. The neckline, dragged out of shape with age, dipped low and threatened to slip off his shoulder, but Ed was beyond caring. Already, his bed was calling again, and he padded his way back across the tiny bathroom and slipped out into the main room.

Mustang had already changed out of his uniform, and Ed got a quick glimpse of pale, muscled chest and stomach before he tugged a top almost identical to Ed’s down to meet the waistband of his pants. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and somehow it was hard to remember that this could possibly be the same man who drove Ed insane from behind a desk. Seeing him out of uniform was weird enough, but the faintly petulant expression on Roy’s face was completely at odds with the placid, superior mask that Ed normally saw.

'What's your problem?' he asked as he picked his way carefully back to his bed, clambering onto the rigid mattress before dragging one of the blankets around his shoulders and copying Roy's pose. 'You look like a kid who didn't get his way.'

Roy's frown deepened for a second, but in the blink of an eye it was gone, replaced by something smooth and indifferent – impossible to read. 'I'm trying to understand the situation we're in. How we ended up with this.' He plucked at the bond with his middle finger, and Ed felt the hum of it all the way through his bones. It was not an unpleasant sensation: hot and relaxing, but it still bothered him that the soul bond was the cause.

'Don't do that,' he snapped, tugging the blanket around himself like a shield. 'We ended up like this because of some psycho priest, or have you forgotten that already?'

'Don't be ridiculous, of course I haven’t. I just don’t understand why he even wants to bind two souls together. If this is the result, both of us too weak to stand for more than a few minutes, then how can it be of use to him?' Roy shook his head, scrubbing a hand through his hair and glancing towards the door. 'I don't understand what's happening, and I don't like being uninformed.'

Ed snorted at that statement of the obvious, hiding a faintly malicious smile as Roy shot him a dark look. 'Unless the police can catch him and ask, we gotta decode the notes. Unfortunately, it looks like Al took them all with him, so I've got nothing to work with.' He shrugged, glancing at the clock and wincing at the time: three-fifteen in the morning. It really was still the middle of the night. 'I could theorise, but for all I know my ideas are total bullshit.'

Roy scratched at an eyebrow before reaching behind him to adjust his pillows so he could lean back in comfort. He did not lie down again, but remained sitting up, brighter and more alert than Ed had seen him looking all day. They both still looked pretty rough, but it seemed as if they had both regained a clear mind, even if their bodies were slower to cooperate.

'A guess is better than nothing at all.'

Ed sighed, wishing he could be working on gaining the facts rather than having to take a stab in the dark, but Mustang was watching him intently, waiting for some kind of response, and he felt compelled to oblige. 'He said something about how much power having a living soul bound to him would give him. I think he was hoping to use me as some kind of battery. I know my alchemy today was –' Ed paused, not sure how to describe it. 'Wild. It's not normally like that. I nearly blew up the town rather than putting the bridge back. The pain started right after.'

Roy was looking at him strangely, his head tipped to one side and lips parted. His eyes were almost black in the weak lamp glow, but Ed could still see the speed of his thoughts rushing through his head. 'Large transmutation, immediate pain. I lit the fire about five or ten minutes before I collapsed. Nearly set the room on fire, which was unexpected, but compared to rebuilding a bridge that's minor.'

'You think the alchemy triggered the pain?' Ed asked, easily following that train of thought. For him, it had come across as nothing more than a coincidence, but now that Roy mentioned the same thing it took on a new level of significance. ‘Your collapse could have been delayed because the transmutation was smaller.’

'The question is, was it using our alchemy that triggered the bond, or was it already emerging and we just accelerated it somehow?' Roy picked irritably at his blankets. 'I suppose you're right. It's useless to speculate when what we need is solid fact. I'm guessing the priest has a solid cipher on his work?'

Ed grunted before nodding his head. 'Al's good at that kind of thing, and he'd have told me if he'd cracked it. I could be working on it now, but he took all the books with him.' He looked around the room again, hoping to see something his brother might have left behind, but there was nothing to distract him from the circling of his thoughts.

'It's because you're meant to be resting,' Roy pointed out, slumping down on his pillows a little. 'Although I know I don't feel like sleeping right now. After the abduction, I was feeling better while you got worse. Now we're both equally weak. It doesn’t make any sense.'

Ed bit his lip, chewing on it as he thought over that strange dichotomy ‘Yeah, it does. I think the transmutation behaved normally, just very slow.' He saw Roy's puzzled expression and sighed, trying to work out how to explain something that, to him, was common sense, but no one else seemed to have grasped.

'When you transmute something, you’re shoving a load of energy into it, first into the array and then into what's being changed. Right at the beginning, it all feels unstable, even if only for a second. Like, like sloshing water in bath. The water rebounds off the end and comes back at you in a wave, but once you stop messing with it, it settles into something calm. Maybe you feeling okay while I felt like crap was the unstable part of that.'

'And now it's levelled out, and we both feel like shit,' Roy finished, giving a weak smile as Ed shrugged.

'You were the one who wanted answers, Mustang.' Ed gripped the corner of the blanket in his automail hand as he drew it more tightly around himself. Maybe noticing the little twitches of energy in a transmutation came from the way he activated arrays. After all, how much could you feel when you drew a circle on the ground or the transmutation came from the click of your fingers?

A thought crossed his mind like a lightning bolt, dazzling in its intensity, and he looked back fully at Mustang. 'You said you lit the fire in your office. You used your gloves?'

Roy gave him an odd look. 'Of course. It's not like I'm going to draw it out when I don't need to – though that might have saved me from singeing the wallpaper.'

Ed blinked, amazed that Roy had not considered the possible fundamental changes to his ability. He had set eyes on the Gate, just like Ed, Al and Izumi. All of them could transmute by clapping, but clearly that idea had not even sparked in Roy's head. 'You didn't try doing it like I do, then?' he said in the end, watching the subtle stiffening of Roy's muscles as realisation struck. 'Seeing the Gate changes the way alchemy works in you – probably, anyway. You should be able to transmute just by pressing your palms together.'

It was almost funny to see the look of youthful curiosity on Roy's face. He was staring at Ed with a mixture of excitement and doubt, and he could see the intrigue burning bright. It was the most animated Ed had seen Mustang in a while, and it made him remember the first time he realised what he could do. Of course, it had come at a price, one that Ed never felt was truly worth it, but in that first moment there had been pure joy that all the alchemy, from the power to the array, was part of him.

'You think it would work?' Roy asked, looking down at his bare palms as if he had never seen them before. 'I don't feel any different.'

'Neither did I.' Ed dragged his knees up to his chest, propping his elbow on them and cupping his chin in his left hand. 'You won't know until you try, but I'd bet all the money I've got that you'll have the ability.' He hesitated, unable to resist making a faint challenge as he added, 'Don't know if you'll be any good at it, though.'

'And what is that supposed to mean, Fullmetal?' That prim tone was far more like the Mustang he knew and recognised, but Ed could hear the emotions barely hidden underneath.

'It's just not as easy as it looks, that's all.' He sniffed, looking around the bland white room and wishing they were out of it already. He would rather be in his dingy dorm room with Al than stuck in here. 'We can't exactly test it out until we're discharged, anyway. The doctor's pissy enough without us accidentally blowing up his hospital wing.'

He thought he saw a faint flicker of disappointment on Roy's face before it vanished. It was enough to remind him that Mustang was more than just a soldier. Somewhere under all that uptight military efficiency there was still an alchemist with enough intelligence to become the best in his field.

'I suppose it's a good idea to wait until we're back on our feet anyway,' Roy said at last. 'Considering what happened the last time we performed alchemy, trying again now might kill us.' His disappointment was almost palpable, but Roy made a good point. Better to be as healthy as possible before risking it again.

'Probably shouldn't try fire alchemy when doing it, either,' Ed added, watching the second hand tick around the face of the clock. 'It's really easy to burn your hands when it's right between your palms.'

'Speaking from experience?' Roy asked lazily before a frown creased his brow. 'Since when do you do fire alchemy? '

'Well, you can do it all right. I thought it would be easy.' Ed shrugged. 'Getting it to light was fine, it was just the rest of it that didn't work the way I thought it would.'

Roy's gentle laugh could have been mocking, but it was actually more sympathetic. 'When I was learning I used to have buckets of water on stand-by all the time, and I needed them for almost a year before I could extinguish mistakes myself. Controlling the flow of the gases to get the flames to do what you want is the complex part.'

'You have to layer it,' Ed said. 'Right? Otherwise the airflow just replaces what you try and take away?'

Roy nodded, and Ed found himself listening intently as Roy explained some of the more complex principles. It was safe-ground, something they could not argue about, but as night slipped past the conversation strayed, drifting with ease this way and that. Periodically, a nurse would interrupt them to check they were all right, taking pulses and making notes before hurrying away again.

Ed kept telling himself that he was only talking to Mustang because there was nothing else to do, but he struggled to hold onto that notion as the hours ticked by. It was the longest conversation they had ever had without Ed wanting to smash Roy's head open, although that smug smirk did creep onto Mustang's face once or twice.

By the time Al turned up at six in the morning, rumpled like he had fallen out of bed and thrown his clothes on, they were both rough-voiced and hungry. The nausea had vanished along with the night, and Ed's stomach roared in appreciation when the smell of bread, bacon and coffee reached his nose.

'Breakfast first,' Al said as Ed's gaze flicked from the two carefully balanced trays in his brother’s hands to the satchel stuffed full with the priest's notes. 'You can have the books after you've eaten. I'm glad to see you're both feeling better.'

Roy said something in response, but Ed was too busy appeasing his ravenous stomach to pay much attention to what he was saying. He only looked up when Hughes came in, looking tired but happy to see them both awake and eating with enthusiasm.

'Just thought I'd see how you were doing, and I need to update you on the police situation, Roy.’ Hughes reached over, stealing a small piece of toast from Roy’s plate before he carried on. ‘Anders passes on her best wishes for a quick recovery, and she wanted to let you know that they have finished searching the church and Max's apartment.’ He pulled an irritated face, and it was easy to see the frustration at the police’s inefficiency etched into Hughes’ features. ‘They still haven't found the body that belongs to the head, or any clue about where the priest might be hiding. She wondered if there might be any information in the notes.

'Angling to get them into police hands?' Roy asked casually. 'Tell her we'll inform her as soon as we find anything relevant. That's the best we can do. Ed and Al need to crack the code. We have additional priorities to tracking down a murderer.'

'Dealing with the soul bond?' Al asked, grimacing as his brother nodded. 'You’re going to try and reverse it?'

Ed swallowed the last piece of fried egg and briefly considered licking his plate before he put down the pathetic plastic fork. 'I don't know. We can't choose to do anything until we know what the fuck's going on. Give me some of the notes. There's got to be some way to break the code.'

'I thought I'd made some progress last night, but it's completely wrong.' Al handed a stack of papers over to Ed, and he looked at the jumbled characters with increasing dread. Basic codes were easy, but this was something he could not begin to grasp. Just when he thought he had unlocked it, everything switched around.

'Let me see it anyway. You never know, it might not be as wrong as it looks.'

They worked quietly, Ed still sitting up in bed while Al sprawled in the chair on his right hand side so as not to bother the soul bond. The conversation between Roy and Hughes created a soft level of background noise, and Ed met the occasional interruption from the doctor or nurse with mute cooperation, too intent on the papers to really pay them any attention.

He ate lunch while reading, trying to rip apart the tangled knot of the cipher. His back was starting to ache more persistently from hunching over his work, and his eyes burned with the need to blink, but he carried on anyway, letting his mind race through the combinations he knew before taking leaps of almost desperate intuition. They needed the information locked in these pages, because without it he and Mustang were running blind. The priest had the knowledge and Ed was going to get it no matter what. All he had to do was keep trying.

Finally, as the sun dipped beneath the horizon and twilight's veils descended, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. A heartfelt sigh of relief escaped his lips as he snatched up a pencil and began to scribble furiously beneath the title at the top of the page.

'Brother?' Al asked, leaning in to look over his shoulder. 'Have you done it?'

'Yeah, the bastard's used a code complex. He alternates different ciphers down the page, but they're all straight-forward. We just kept getting thrown off by the inconsistency.' He paused, blinking at the three words he had translated. 'At least. I think I've got it.'

'What does it say?' asked Roy from where he was leaning back against his pillows, one or two more urgent reports open on his lap.

Ed stared at the paper before lifting his head, looking across the room as he shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

'The Saffron Soul.'


	8. Chapter 8

Roy met Ed's baffled, golden gaze with equal confusion. On their own, the words made sense, but when put together they created something that none of them recognised. 'The Saffron Soul? I've never heard of that before. Maybe it's just the priest giving his findings a glorified title?'

Al shook his head, his lips moving as he skimmed the opening passage. 'This isn't about the array. It's historical, or maybe religious. It might tell us something about why they were calling you “My Lord”, Brother.'

'But probably not much about the soul bond,' Ed pointed out, reaching towards a sheaf of loose papers with occasional transmutation circle sketches: definitely research notes. 'Translating all this is going to take weeks, maybe even months. We have no idea how much time me and Mustang have before something worse happens to us.'

Roy grimaced at that cold truth, his mind racing as he tried to think of who might be of use to them. 'I'll ask Hughes if we can borrow Scieszka. She might not be an alchemist, but she's got an excellent memory for the written word. Once she's grasped the code, she'll be a valuable help.' Rubbing his jaw, he looked back at the reports on his knees. Paperwork never stopped, but he could still try and help whenever he got a moment. 'For now, why doesn't Al take the book and you take the notes, Fullmetal? Even a basic knowledge is better than none. As soon as I'm done with these, I'll join you.'

For once, Ed did not argue, and minutes slipped by marked only by the steady pattern of their breathing and the scratch of pencil against paper. Roy tried to keep his mind focussed on the reports in front of him, but every few moments he found himself looking over at Ed, watching the dip and furrow of his brow as he puzzled through the priest's work.

Roy itched to know what was written on that page. The answers were so close he could smell them, and the thought of having the facts was enough to make him feel as if he were in control of the situation once more. Also, he had to admit, even if he was the victim of all this, as an alchemist he could not resist the spark of intellectual curiosity that had him craning his neck and trying to read Ed's clumsy handwriting.

No hope there; it was as illegible as always. Roy struggled to read Ed's reports when they were right in front of him, let alone when they were half a room away and at the wrong angle.

Stifling a sigh, he reluctantly returned to his reports, forcing his eyes to focus on the neat typeface. It was monotonous work but, within the hour, he had diligently read and signed off on all those that required it. By the time Hawkeye showed up at the end of the working day, Roy was in the midst of decoding a stack of notes, and he barely noticed the lieutenant until she cleared her throat.

Looking up, Roy blinked his tired eyes, not missing the faintly amused expression on Hawkeye’s face. One eyebrow was raised a fraction, and the corner of her mouth was turned upwards by the slightest fraction. She kept the cause of her amusement to herself, though, choosing instead to reach over and collect the reports.

‘The doctor said that you and Edward need to stay here at least one more night, sir,’ she said quietly, looking unapologetic as Ed made an irritated noise. ‘The results of the blood tests should be back tomorrow. If there's nothing worrying, then he's happy to let you go.' There was a hint of relief in her small, professional smile, but it rapidly faded as she took in how hard the three of them were working. 'With all due respect, sir, you and Edward are meant to be resting.'

Roy shot a pointed look at the newly signed files in her arms, but she remained utterly unflustered. 'Essential documents are one thing, but I'm sure this can wait until tomorrow.' Her voice softened a little as she looked towards Al for confirmation. 'I have no doubt Edward's been working on them all day. A break would be a good idea.'

'The lieutenant's right,' Al said quietly, reaching over and tugging Ed's notes away from him. The pencil left a broad line across the page, and Ed scowled at his brother. Still, Roy had seen enough of Ed's thunderous expressions to know that this one was far from genuine; he was just going through the motions. Was Ed really tired enough to do as he was told with minimal protest, or did he know something Roy did not? ‘These will still be waiting for you tomorrow, Brother.’

With a sigh, Ed let it slide, and Roy’s suspicions increased. Stubborn did not even begin to describe Ed’s nature; he never let things go without a fight. Al knew that too, because his young face pinched in a frown, clearly torn between suspicion and concern. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Just tired.’ Ed leaned back on the pillows, tugging up the blankets and closing his eyes in obvious emphasis. ‘I’ll look at them again after breakfast. It’s not exactly easy reading, anyway.’

Al pursed his lips, but he did not question his brother’s answer. Instead, with a quiet sigh and a quick wave, he bid them both goodnight and followed the lieutenant out of the room. Roy and Ed were left in peace, and a couple of minutes passed in silence before Roy glanced over and asked, ‘So where have you hidden the notes, then?’

That sharp, wicked grin flashed across Ed’s face like lightning, and he opened one gleaming eye. ‘Hidden in the stack of towels in the bathroom. I knew Al would try and take them all away. There’s no way I’m sleeping from now until breakfast.’

‘They haven’t given us dinner yet,’ Roy pointed out. ‘Can you at least wait until you’ve eaten something?’

Ed’s reply remained unsaid as the door to the room swung open, admitting the doctor and one of the many nurses who had been taking care of them throughout their stay.

The man looked tired and flustered, as if he had been on his feet all day, and the nurse was visibly nervous. She kept biting at her lip and fiddling with her uniform, but she remained silent as the doctor strode across the room and snatched Roy’s chart from the foot of the bed.

‘Still with us then, Gentlemen?’ he asked, clearly not expecting any kind of answeras he hummed and tutted over the notes. ‘I’m certain your lieutenant has already told you that you’ll be staying here overnight again. The wretched woman has been bothering me all day demanding your prognosis. Intolerable.’

Roy raised an eyebrow, wishing that Hawkeye were nearby to overhear the doctor’s assessment. The dour man would have a bullet in his head before he could blink for being so dismissive of the lieutenant’s concerns. ‘She takes her job seriously and cares for the people around her,’ Roy said softly, managing to imply with the faintest inflection of his voice that such qualities were sorely lacking in the man at his bedside.

The doctor cleared his throat, not bothering to respond as he put down Roy’s chart and moved to Ed’s bedside. The moment he read through the first page, those steely brows snapped into a scowl, and he turned to glare at the nurse beside him, ignoring her nervous wince as he gestured with the clipboard. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

‘No, sir. I know it looks strange, but the readings are accurate!’ She straightened her shoulders as he tutted, and Roy could not help feeling sorry for her. The doctor seemed like a tyrant, and it was clear the nurses had little respect for him. ‘They are. If you have your doubts, then check yourself. Both patients have exactly the same heart-rate.’

‘I will, thank you,’ the doctor replied in a curt tone, dismissing her with a flick of his hand. He waited as she marched towards the door, her arms straight and furious at her sides. Through the window, Roy could see some of the other nurses giving her sympathetic looks, and he wondered how many times they spat in the doctor’s coffee over the course of a week.

Cool fingers at the hollow beneath his jawbone made him flinch in surprise, and he realised the man was looking at his watch and counting. ‘Most accurate way,’ he said at Roy’s confused expression. ‘The pulse is stronger here, and there’s less likelihood of missing a beat.’ He hovered there for a minute before making a note and moving on to Ed.

For a moment, Roy thought he was going to interrupt the bond again, but he moved around to the right-hand side and pressed his fingers to Ed’s throat. Fullmetal looked like the last thing he wanted was to be touched – Roy could almost see the snarl trying to twist his lips – but he smothered it down and grudgingly let the doctor do his job.

With an irritated sigh, the man shook his head, stepping back and scowling at them both as if they had done him personal injury. For a moment, his mouth worked silently, but eventually he seemed to bring himself under control as he wrote the relevant information on their charts. ‘Everything seems fine. The test results will be in tomorrow. I’ll be back to discuss further action once I know the full story. Goodnight, gentlemen. I’m sure dinner will be on its way shortly.’

He marched from the room like a man on a mission, and Roy screwed up his face as the door slammed and the doctor’s rough, angry reprimand of the nurses filled the corridor. Ed was already crawling towards the bottom of his bed and reaching for his chart, and Roy leaned forward to do the same, staring at the numbers and notes scribbled all over the place.

‘His handwriting’s worse than yours,’ he murmured, smirking as Ed gave him the finger. ‘What was he getting so upset about?’

‘Give me that,’ Ed ordered, slipping out of bed and padding stiffly across the floor as he held out a hand for Roy’s chart. He lined up both pieces of paper so that Roy could compare them more easily and turned them around so he could see. ‘Ever since we got in, our heart rates have been identical. Even when they were abnormally high at the beginning, they’re still exactly the same.’

‘Except for the last one.’ Roy grimaced at the number, knowing deep down that the one digit difference was the doctor’s vain attempt to pacify his own ego. ‘It couldn’t be coincidence?’

'Not likely, is it?' Ed muttered, giving Roy back his chart and putting his own on the end of the bed before turning towards the bathroom. 'Maybe the notes I stashed can tell us about it.'

Roy waited as Ed rummaged around and returned with a sheaf of papers almost an inch thick. He had also had the forethought to hide a couple of pencils, and Roy wondered how many times Ed had done this in the past. Surely when Al was in his armour, eternally sleepless, then Ed would have given up first? Yet Roy could remember Alphonse's metal voice, tense and scared because his brother would not sleep, would not eat, would only read until his eyes almost bled...

Yet losing the armour had made Al harder, in some ways. Perhaps it was simply a matter of maturity, but flashes of stubbornness and strength of personality to match Ed's had become more and more frequent. To everyone else he was polite and charming, but where Ed's behaviour would have once been met with compromise, now there were suggestions that bordered on commands. It was all for Ed's own good, of course. That was all Alphonse cared about, and maybe all that time watching Ed work himself almost to death had left a lasting impression on the younger boy.

'Are you going to stare into space all evening, or are you going to help?' Ed asked in a curt voice, chucking a pencil at Roy before handing him half the stack and another scrap of paper with the copy of the code's key. 'It's not like you've got anything better to do.'

With a sigh, Roy obliged. Ed was right. If he were not working on this, then his circling thoughts and fears would only plague him endlessly. It seemed that a new revelation occurred ever few hours, and this latest synchronization was more disturbing than he cared to admit. Binding two souls was one thing, but this seemed to go beyond that level, encompassing their physical forms as well: they shared pain, and now it seemed their lives were racing by at an identical pace. Would the bond reach a desired level of unity, or would it simply keep growing stronger until he and Ed may as well be the same person?

They ate dinner in silence, both engrossed in what they were doing. Roy lost himself in the monotonous decoding, occasionally getting sidetracked as a new gem of information revealed itself to him. Out of context, none of them were that helpful, but gradually he and Ed were starting to reveal the priest's methodology.

Outside, the world grew dark, and the hustle of headquarters died to almost nothing. Roy lifted his head to look at the clock, wincing as his neck twinged. The nurses had taken away their dinner trays several hours ago, and now the hands were edging towards eleven at night. If he were in his own home he would be settling in front of the fire with a nightcap about now, but there were no such luxuries here. Worse, Ed was showing no sign of calling it a night.

Roy let the papers fall to the floor in an organised stack, watching them fan out slightly before he dropped his pencil on top. 'It's getting late, and I'm tired. I'll do the rest tomorrow.'

Ed's only response was a grunt, and Roy would bet anything the brat had not even heard him. With a sigh, he settled down properly in bed, nestling himself under the blankets and letting the sad, thin pillow support his head. The glow of the lamp still suffused the room in faint gold and etched shadows on the walls, but all was quiet. Only the whisper of Ed's pencil prevented utter silence, and Roy shut his burning eyes, trying to will himself to sleep.

It did not work. Between the whirl of his thoughts and the soft, subtle noises of Ed’s presence on the other side of the room, his body refused to shut down. He turned over, tugging petulantly at the sheets and trying to give the pillow a ghost of life by shaking it vigorously, but nothing helped. The mattress was uncomfortable, the room was unfamiliar, and the more he attempted to capture sleep, the more it evaded him.

At last, he rolled back to face Ed, barely keeping the scowl from his face as he realised the younger man was oblivious to Roy’s troubles. He hunched over his work like a vulture over a carcass, utterly focussed as his left hand moved gracelessly over the page. Lamplight bathed him in an ethereal glow, making gold hair a halo. Stray hairs escaped the tangled ponytail at the back of Ed’s head, curving lovingly against his cheek and falling to his shoulders. It had to tickle, but Ed did not pay it any attention as he continued to work, blind and deaf to everything around him.

Roy, on the other hand, felt hyper-aware. The ticking clock was like the beat of a drum, and the occasional chatter from outside their room cut through the peace like a knife. The antiseptic stink of the air seemed to burn his nose, and the pyjamas against his skin felt like a shroud, tight and restraining. Every tiny hair on his skin was prickling, and instincts whispered soft warnings to him. There was nothing threatening nearby, but Roy’s body felt a million miles from relaxation, and he clenched his teeth as he forced himself to try and let go of the tension.

Minutes passed, and Roy bore them with good grace until, at last, he could no bear it any more. Quietly, he slipped from the bed and closed the two-pace distance between him and Ed. He did not notice the movement at all, and Roy felt a frisson of surprise. He had not seen Ed this vulnerable since Al had been in armour: a permanent bodyguard to protect him while his mind was lost within the alchemy. Once Alphonse had returned from the gate, Ed’s old wary ways had reasserted themselves.

Normally, when he was engrossed in work, there was still something there, some sentry of awareness that made Ed at least look up at anything unexpected. Even in the office, surrounded by friends, there was some connection to reality.

Now, there was nothing.

It was a stupid, foolish way for any soldier to behave. Losing yourself like that could be a matter of life and death; Roy thought Ed knew that. Yet here he was, close enough to reach out and throttle him if he so desired, and Ed had not even blinked. He was chewing his lip in concentration, head bowed and brow drawn into a frown. Roy almost wanted to scream at him. There was a cult out there looking to trap him, for god’s sake, looking to kill him for all they knew. How could he leave himself so open to attack?

Unless...

Roy frowned, almost dismissing the thought rather than give it credit, but it slipped beneath his barriers to take root in his mind: perhaps Ed had allowed himself to be utterly absorbed by what he was reading because he felt safe. Maybe he did not view Roy as a threat, but as someone to watch his back while he got on with what was important.

It seemed unlikely – Ed did not trust easily, and Roy did not think he had given him any reason for such faith – but the idea would not leave him be. Ruthlessly, he shoved the nagging thought away and reached out, firmly pulling the pencil from Ed’s grasp. That got his attention, and the snarl that rumbled in his throat was all rebellious ferocity. He snapped his head up to glare at Roy, but surprise flickered beneath the anger, as if he had not realised Roy was so close.

‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ Roy said calmly. ‘By the time I get back, I want you to be asleep.’ It was an officious command, utterly pointless, and Ed’s face darkened with anger.

‘Don’t treat me like a fucking kid, Mustang,’ he hissed. ‘Give that back. I’m busy!’

‘It can wait,’ Roy said in a hard voice. ‘It’s already been nearly four hours since Al left. That’s enough. You need rest.’ He turned towards the bathroom as he added, ‘That’s not a request, it’s an order. No arguments, Fullmetal.’

Ed’s squeak of rage was cut off by the door swinging shut behind Roy’s back, and he let out a heavy sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose. He doubted Ed would do as he was told, but if Fullmetal had his way he would work through the night without a second thought to his health or well being.

After answering the call of nature, Roy turned to the sink, splashing some lukewarm water on his face before lifting his eyes to his reflection. He had definitely looked better. Stubble shadowed his jaw, and his hair had turned into an unruly mess. He wanted a hot shower and a good night’s sleep, but neither seemed likely in the near future. The faded black pyjamas made his appearance utterly monotone, and he still looked pale and drawn: marred by the touch of pain.

Drying his face with one of the towels, Roy turned away and squared his shoulders. He fully expected Ed to have retrieved the notes and returned to work, and suspicion flared when he realised Ed was curled up on his side, nestled in a cocoon of blankets with his eyes at half-mast. Roy was unprepared for such cooperation, and he slipped into bed with a frown before reaching out to flick off the lamp.

Gloom descended, though it was far from complete darkness, and Roy closed his stinging eyes with a sigh. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of trying to work in the dark,’ he murmured when a faint crinkling of paper reached his ears. ‘If nothing else, think of your eyesight. I’ve seen the way you read, it’s a miracle you don’t need glasses already.’

‘Notes are under my pillow to hide ‘em from Al,’ he retorted. ‘Being lectured by you is bad enough, bastard. Don’t need it from him as well.’ Ed’s aggression was marred by a yawn, one which Roy swiftly mimicked, and he found himself relaxing more fully into the mattress as the tension slipped from his body.

Sleep, so elusive before, was now ganging up on him, dragging him swiftly down into the shadows. He could not pinpoint the moment where wakefulness succumbed to slumber, but the instant the dream broke upon his mind, he knew he would not get the rest he needed.

Wind blew around him, whipping sand against his face. The hot stink of the desert filled his nostrils as grit coated his lips, and Roy shielded his eyes against the sun as he looked around. It was a needless gesture; he knew where he was. Ishbal needed no introduction. The settlement huddled, squat and tense on the horizon, and Roy could feel the weight of the military’s expectation pulling at his shoulders.

_‘It’s your job to make it easy for us, Mustang. Burn them out.’_

His gloves rasped uncomfortably on his hands, feeling abnormally tight, and the bronze disc of the sun, pinned in the unreal blue of the sky, burned down as he began to walk. This dream had polluted his nights more times than he cared to count, always the same. Yet it had never seemed this real, before. He scratched at his nose, stumbling as the sand shifted beneath his boots and sweat pricked along his hairline. Nightmares, even those that stemmed from his memories, tended to jump around, focusing on key events. The last time he remembered walking across the burning sands was when he was actually in the war-zone, and for a split-second fear’s grip on him tightened to choking point.

No, this was not real. Ishbal was in the past, and the world around him was nothing but the product of his tortured subconscious going through the motions of his guilt. Admittedly, it was more vivid than usual, but the outcome would still be the same. He would bear the events through to their inevitable end, the same as always.

The weight of his uniform grew greater with every step, and sweat ran down his face. Standing on the unstable peak of that final dune, he looked down at the town. The buildings looked like part of the desert, hewn over time by the wind and sand, but in a place where the world turned dead and barren, humanity survived. He could hear children laughing and see the people in the streets. Women stopped to talk on doorsteps while the men carried on their business. Even from this far away, he could see their tension. They knew war was coming.

None of them even knew they were about to die.

Fire tore across the arid land, and the wind stirred wildly as the gases flowed to his command. Alchemy was all around him, thick, choking and deadly. Roy’s throat was going tight, closed up by the same old grief and pain. No apology would ever be enough – nothing he could do would right this wrong: one of the many sins that stained his hands from the war.

He tried to tell himself that it was under orders. If he had not done it, then a bullet in the brain would be his punishment and the military would still rip them to shreds. At least this way there was something like mercy. By his hand, it would be quick.

An orange tide descended on the town: unstoppable. Roy’s cheeks blistered from the lances of heat, and smoke belched into the sky. Muscles shook with the concentration required to tempt the inferno into every building, incinerating all in its path. There would not be a moment of suffering – the blaze was too hot for that. Perhaps buildings would still stand, but it would be a graveyard of ash: a monument to Amestrian pride and stupidity.

A sound cut through the air – a high, wailing scream that made Roy jerk in horror. Ice suffused his baking body and nausea clenched in his stomach as he tried to understand. There had never been noise from the town before, not on the day itself and not in his dreams, yet one agonised cry was joined by another until the air was thick with dying human voices. They choked on smoke and begged for help, and within that wall of fire, he thought he saw shadows moving, twisting, trying to avoid their agonising end.

Roy stepped back, horrified and brimming with fear. The alchemy fell apart around him, but the fire lived on, a monster beyond his control. The sky was orange with sparks and smudged with fumes, but still the noise continued, worming its way out of the air and into his skull. Covering his ears, he hunched over, trying to make himself a smaller target and desperate to escape. Why was this happening? Why was the dream so different? How the hell did he get out?

‘Roy!’

Hands settled on his shoulders in a punishing grip, and he whirled around, fingers clenched to snap and fight as he snarled like an animal caught in a trap. Ed did not so much as flinch. His face was pale, streaked with sand and soot, but his fingers still dug into Roy’s shoulders as he held him in place. ‘It’s just a fuckin’ dream. Wake up. That’s all you’ve got to do!’

‘Why are you here?’ Roy asked wretchedly, reeling and confused beneath the onslaught of his mind. ‘You weren’t in Ishbal. You weren’t there, so why are you _here_?’

His breathing seemed to be coming from somewhere far away, and he could feel the hollow ache of his straining ribs as Ed's metal fingers left bruises in his flesh. It was startlingly, horrifyingly real, and Roy could feel the fear turning to panic as his heart picked up speed. The sand continued to whisper all around him, but now there was golden static amidst the grains, dancing in a wide-cast web of power. The smell of it overpowered even the bitter stench of the smoke, and Roy clenched his teeth tight.

'I'm here because of the fuckin' bond,' Ed snapped, a voice of reason amidst the hissing confusion that echoed through Roy's skull. 'Open your damn eyes and wake up!'

The last bit was a shout, loud and harsh like a knife cutting through flesh. The dream disintegrated, and Roy sat upright in bed, retching on his panting gasps as his body shuddered. He could hear Ed in the next bed, breathing like he had just run a marathon and far from asleep. Fear coiled through the room, and Roy tunnelled his hands into his hair, bowing his head as he tried to fix himself firmly in reality.

Tears and sweat had left their gritty mark on his face, like the desert had followed him home, and Roy clenched his hands into desperate fists as his emotions veered from weakening fear to the hot, hard snap of anger. He was not so stupid that he was about to put Ed's presence in his dream down to a figment of his imagination. The bond went everywhere, even into the darkest recesses of Roy's mind, and Ed followed, clearly without a second thought.

'What the fuck were you doing in my dream?' The snarl caught in his throat, deep and feral, but Roy did not care if his rage made Ed flinch. The brat had already seen him more vulnerable than ever before – splayed open by his own guilt and horror – there was no way he was showing Ed the turbulence of the aftermath. It was easier to be angry, because in that at least, there was strength. Ed should not be surprised; he used the same behaviour as a refuge himself on a daily basis, after all.

'Like I wanted to end up inside your stupid head,' Ed replied in a hiss, too quiet to bring the nurses running but still brimming with aggression. 'It's just where I ended up when I fell asleep.'

'In my thoughts?' Roy demanded, almost spitting the words as he reached out a hand and flicked on the lamp. Ed blinked in the sudden glow, but he did not turn away or act even the slightest bit ashamed for such a brutal invasion of Roy's privacy. 'You have no right! Why the hell didn't you just turn around and get out?'

'I tried! It was your stupid fuckin' dream and you were in control of it!' Ed shook his head, hair whipping around his face as he hunched his shoulders: defensive but volatile. 'I couldn't wake up unless you did. What are you blaming me for? You think I want to see the shit you did in the war? I'm fucked up enough without your help!'

'So it's my fault?' Roy snapped, not bothering to keep his voice down any more. His vaunted control was shattered at his feet, too damaged by the nightmare to be of any use. 'Take some god-damned responsibility, Fullmetal, for once in your life!'

Ed's eyes narrowed, and Roy's chest rose and fell in a reflection of the angry huff of breath that escaped the younger man's lips. His face was pale but for the two flags of furious colour on his cheeks. 'Responsibility?' he asked in a deadly voice. 'After all that shit with the stone, you're sitting there telling me about responsibility? The bond isn't my fault, Mustang. I didn't ask for it, and I sure as hell don't want to be stuck with a bastard like you!' He threw back the covers, swinging out of bed and snatching the notes from under his pillow before marching across the room.

'Where are you going?' Roy asked, struggling out from beneath his blankets. 'Get back in bed, Fullmetal, that's an order!'

'Shove it, Mustang. Like fuck I'm going to sit on my arse doing nothing until you give me permission. I'm going to figure out how to break the bond. I don't want you in my life, let alone in my head.'

'So it's fine for you to see my nightmares, but I shouldn't have access to yours?' Roy winced as the door slammed hard enough to rattle the glass and stir the nurses from their duties. He could hear their alarmed questions and Ed's low pitched, growling answer, already fading as he stalked away.

'Brat,' Roy spat, cuffing his hand through his hair again before easing himself out of bed. He almost expected the pain to return, meting out its punishment, but beyond the twisting cocktail of ebbing fear and steel-hard anger, he felt healthy and whole.

All his discomfort was emotional. The vividness of the dream, the strange twists and then, to top it all off, Ed's presence within the nightmare had left Roy jarred by the shock of it. Oh, Ed had turned up in his dreams before. When he was just a boy, Fullmetal had fallen into the role of the victim – someone Roy had slain simply because he was ordered to do so. In recent years, it had been pleasant fantasies, rather than nightmares which Ed had graced with his presence, but at all times he was a figment of Roy's imagination, unconscious and unknowing, little more than a willing puppet.

That – that had not been Ed's image, it had been Fullmetal himself, and Roy cringed at the thought of Ed's diamond sharp mind judging him for Ishbal's horrors. He was an intensely private man; those who knew him best accepted that as one of his traits and handled it in their own way. Trusting a lover with his body was easy enough, but showing anyone the full breadth of his inner self was something he had never achieved. Hughes knew the most, of course, but there were some things Roy had not divulged – even to his best friend. The thought of Ed being privy to those secret shames made Roy's skin crawl. Not because he thought that Ed would tell the world, but because Ed knowing them – knowing him – was a terrifying prospect.

Part of him, the fraction that maintained rationality at all times, knew that Ed had not intended to share Roy's dreams. It had not been an intentional action, and definitely not something born of spite, whatever it felt like. Yet even knowing that, he could not bring himself to consider apologising – not yet. He felt too exposed and naked for that. Besides, Ed was more likely to ram the sentiment back down Roy's throat than show any kind of understanding.

Glancing at the clock, Roy scowled: four in the morning. Going back to bed seemed pointless, but there was nothing to do in his hospital room, now all the more lonely for Ed's absence. Biting his lip, Roy considered his options, and at last he decided on the only sensible course of action. If Ed was going to discharge himself, then Roy was damned if he was hanging around to bear the doctor's disdain when dawn broke.

Scooping up his uniform from where he had left it on the chair, he eased the door open and padded out into the corridor. One of the nurses gave him a hard look, but she only stopped him to make him sign the discharge papers. 'I didn't think you would stay around long,' she said quietly, and Roy recognised her as the woman the doctor had yelled at earlier. 'I hope you and the major feel better soon.'

'Thank you.' He returned her warm smile with one of his own, trying not to let it seem fake as he scribbled his name in the right place. 'If the doctor has any questions or further concerns, he knows where to find me.'

Walking out into the empty corridor, he briefly wondered if he should have changed back into his uniform. At this time of night there was not likely to be anyone of any importance in the corridors, and his old uniform was creased and wretched. Still, it would probably be a better alternative than the baggy pyjamas, which threatened to fall off his hips with every step. Hitching them up to a decent height, he peered around the corner before making his way to his suite. A quick rummage in his pockets rewarded him with his keys, and he let himself into the non-descript hallway with a sigh of relief.

Someone had been busy. Last time he had stepped through the door, a military standard of accommodation had greeted him: reasonable, but hardly luxurious. Now it looked as if someone had gone to the effort to make it seem a bit more like home. A suitcase sat in the hall which, on closer inspection, contained his clothes and a few other bits and pieces, and someone had made sure the fireplace was stocked with fuel. There was food in the tiny kitchenette and coffee waiting to be brewed. Best of all, his own fluffy feather quilt and thick pillows had been retrieved and now crowned the bed with their glory. It might not be home, but after the taint of Ishbal in his dreams, it was just as comforting.

With a faint grimace, Roy realised this was probably Hawkeye's way of telling him that he would not be returning to his pleasant town house any time soon. Security was her main concern, and he suspected she had deemed it safer for him to stay within headquarters for the foreseeable future. A quick discussion with Hughes had probably resulted in this idea. At least they had made the effort to ease the blow, but he still felt a pang of longing for familiar surroundings.

Briefly, he considered what to do with himself. Going back to bed would be futile. Besides, he was brimming with a restless, adrenaline-edged energy, and he quickly set about putting it to good use. Clothes were unpacked and hung in the wardrobe, and he slung his old uniform in a pile to be washed before turning his attention towards the bathroom. Cleanliness was a fast-fading memory, and he peeled out of the limp pyjamas before stepping under the hot spray of the shower.

Instantly, tense muscles began to unwind, and Roy found himself almost purring with delight. The faint, niggling aches at his joints seemed to vanish entirely, and he leaned back against the warming tiles as he let himself relish the feeling. Normally his showers were perfunctory at best, but now he took his time, finding solace in the simple pleasures. By the time he had washed his hair and bathed, he felt more human again: a man in control of his situation, rather than a helpless captive to his destiny. His scattered mind was once again finding its focus, and as he stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself, he bent his intelligence into creating a plan of action.

The problem was the sheer level of unknowns surrounding the entire situation. Even if Ed could find out how to break the soul bond, the threat would not be over. The priest and his followers were still out there somewhere, and it seemed that as long as the investigation stayed in the hands of the police, they would never be found. He would have to talk to Anders about disclosure of information. Perhaps military eyes could see something that the civilians had missed.

Falman had also been set to work with Ed's description of the priest, cross-referencing all the records he could to try and pin down an identity. It was a time-consuming job, but it could provide the key to unlocking the puzzle. If he had found anything, Roy would have been told, but that was still a spark of hope amidst the fog of confusion.

Wiping the steam from the mirror, Roy set about shaving, guiding the razor carefully over his skin as he continued to think. He suspected the historical document that Al was decoding could give them some insight into why the Elrics were the target, but whether it could be of any use beyond that remained to be seen. At the moment, it was a simple case of hurry up and wait, and Roy's patience was already wearing thin. There had to be something he could do to explode the situation and start getting results, but what?

With a shake of his head he rinsed the foam from his face and opened the bathroom door, wandering through to the bedroom where a clean uniform waited for him. His fingers moved on autopilot, manipulating zips, buttons, buckles and laces until the man in the mirror looked every inch like a ranking army officer. He left off his jacket, carrying it with him and slinging it over the kitchen chair as he began to make himself some breakfast.

He was just stirring some cream into his coffee when he realised what was missing. All this time he had been too caught up in his thoughts – too busy trying to distract himself from his nightmare – to notice the difference: there was no golden tether arching from his wrist. Ever since Ed had woken up after Tannam, the bond had been there, easily visible to them both. Now, there was nothing, and for a split second Roy wondered if it could be that easy. Could it really be gone?

Cautiously, he plucked at the air just above the surface of the array, shivering when he met resistance. The vibration hummed into his skin, bringing sunny heat with it, and Roy's heart sank in his chest. Ed had said it himself: just because you could not see something, that did not mean it was not real. The bond was still there, as strong as ever, but for whatever reason it was no longer a visible leash between them.

Roy sighed, adding another question to the growing list. Knowledge was key to unravelling any puzzle, but facts were in seriously short supply. Was he really meant to sit here and wait while some strange alchemy tied him and Ed closer to each other? What if it could never be reversed? Was he stuck knowing that every day Fullmetal was tied to him, and every night he could simply waltz uninvited into his mind?

A knock at the door interrupted his spinning thoughts, and he plucked some toast from the toaster before moving over to the peephole. Hughes' distorted face glared at him from the other side, and Roy stifled a quiet sigh as he took a bite of his makeshift breakfast and opened the door. 'Don't start,' he muttered, waving a hand before Hughes could speak. 'Want some coffee?'

'It's six in the morning. Of course I want coffee.' Hughes stepped over the threshold, shutting the door behind him and following Roy back to the kitchen. 'You're meant to be in bed, in hospital. It's not like you to discharge yourself. If nothing else I thought you were enjoying the time off work.'

Roy gave a graceless snort as he poured another mug of coffee. 'Hawkeye was bringing me reports anyway, and we all know my collapse has nothing to do with anything medical. I just – I didn't want to stay in there anymore. I've got too much to do.'

Hughes picked up the mug, taking a sip and letting out a small sound of relief. Roy knew how he felt. Some days he thought coffee could make everything right. Unfortunately, today was not one of them. Spreading butter on toast, he felt the companionable silence settle over the room, but he was not so easily fooled. Hughes was sharp at any time of day, and he could practically feel his friend's green gaze boring into the back of his head.

'Of course, work is your highest priority,' Hughes said, his grin taking the bite out of the sarcasm. 'Now, the real reason both you and Ed discharged yourselves is...?'

'I already told you: it was pointless staying there.'

'A few hours, Roy, and they would have let you out anyway. I know the difference between a dignified departure and a hasty retreat. I also know that you both left in your pyjamas. When you went to sleep, you intended to stay there until the doctor let you go. What happened?' Hughes took another sip of coffee, leaning back in the dining chair like he could wait all day if he had to. 'Was it something to do with the bond?'

Roy pressed his lips together, wishing Hughes would believe his excuses. He already felt exposed enough after the nightmare without raking it all over again. Besides, the undeniable intimacy of what he and Ed shared seemed even worse when he thought about shared dreams. It stripped down all boundaries of privacy – how could anyone exist like that?

'I dreamt about the war. That town: Kartal.' Roy swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth as the little he had eaten turned to stone in his stomach. 'Ed saw the whole thing.'

Hughes set his mug down on the table, leaning forward in his chair with a frown as he said, 'You mean that you dreamed Ed was there and saw everything?'

'No, Maes. He was actually in the dream with me, seeing everything from his own point of view. He watched me burn the town and all the people in it to ash.' Roy took a deep breath, knowing he sounded angry and bitter, but all that emotion as still there, waiting for his attention. 'He was yelling at me – ordering me to wake up – and when I did, so did he.' Roy shrugged, trying to appear indifferent when all his hands wanted to do was tighten into fists. 'I would never have willingly told him about that, but because of the bond, he just wandered into my nightmare and saw everything anyway.'

Peace descended on the kitchen, marred only by the steady sounds of the military waking up to the start of another day. Soon enough there would be drills on the parade ground and bustling corridors, but for now the outside world was easy enough to ignore as Hughes sat there, watching him in thoughtful silence.

'So you ran away?' he said at last, a gentle smile curving his lips when Roy scowled. 'No, didn't think so. Let me guess: you got defensive and angry and, Ed being Ed, he got angry back.'

'He stormed out,' Roy explained. 'Said he was going to work out how to break the soul bond because he didn't want me in his head. After that it seemed kind of pointless staying there. I wouldn't have gone back to sleep, and I didn't feel like dwelling on it all night.'

'I hate to tell you, Roy, but it sounds like you've been dwelling on it anyway.' Hughes leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head and his expression one of pained apology. 'I can imagine how much it bothered you – especially since there's no guarantee that it won't happen again – but you know it wasn't Ed's fault.'

'That's not the point.' Roy slashed a hand through the air, almost slopping coffee on his boots in the process. 'Blame isn't important. What matters is that Ed knows. It was private, and now it's not.'

'I doubt Ed's going to go around telling people – he's not like that.' Hughes got to his feet, and this time the smile was warmer and laced with something that Roy could not quite identify. 'If it were Hawkeye, or me, would it matter so much?'

'You'd understand at least. It was a war, I had orders...' Roy replied quietly, gulping back the last of his coffee before staring unseeingly into the bottom of the mug. 'God knows what Ed thinks of me now.'

Hughes picked up Roy's jacket and handed it to him, lifting his shoulders in a shrug as he did so. 'He's not as naïve as you might think; is that what all this is about? Not so much that Ed saw what happened, but that he might be judging you for it?'

'Anyone else would, in his position,' Roy said quietly, slipping on his jacket and doing up the buttons. 'He didn't fight in Ishbal, and he's never been in a true war situation. All he's got to go on is what he saw and what he knows of me. Somehow I doubt it adds up favourably.'

'You want him to think well of you?' Hughes asked, grinning when Roy gave him no answer but a long, cool look. 'Listen, you know Ed didn't mean to see what you were dreaming. God knows it must have been confusing for him. You've got two options: pretend it never happened, or act like a man and talk to him about it. You're going to have to work together if you want to get through this whole soul-mate thing.'

'Soul bond,' Roy corrected, scowling as Hughes waved a dismissive hand. 'They are two different things, Maes. Very different.'

'If you say so.’ Hughes shrugged, still smiling as if he were enjoying his own private joke. ‘Come on. Since you're awake and ready to go, you might as well get on Hawkeye's good side and get some work done. Besides, it looks very good to the higher ups if you’re slaving away despite being in sadly doubtful health.'

With a huff of mirthless laughter, Roy led the way out of his suite and into the corridor, locking the door behind him as he fell into a comfortable stride at his friend’s side. ‘Is there any fall-out from my collapse that I need to know about?’ he asked. ‘Anyone giving cause for concern?’

‘No one of importance. All the backstabbers are of lower rank than you: Garnet and Klein, for example. Once the top hear you’re back behind your desk, any concerns they have will melt away.’ Hughes nodded cheerfully to one of the secretaries as she scurried past, hands full of coffee mugs and papers tucked under her arm. ‘You know what they’re like. Unless you die in the corridor or do something worthy of instant promotion, it’s hard to get the attention of the brass.’

‘I suppose that’s a blessing.’ Roy sighed, already feeling the drag of the nightmare and broken sleep taking its toll. One mug of coffee was not nearly enough to brace him for the day. Hughes seemed to read his mind, because the first thing he did when they got into the office was put on another pot, letting the air slowly fill with the bitter, fortifying scent as Roy settled back in to his domain.

He had not been away long, but it still felt a little like coming home. This was the centre of his web, the nexus of his achievements in the military, and he was pleased to see that everything was as he had left it. Focussing his attention on the cold, dead hearth, Roy carefully clicked his gloved fingers, braced and ready for the surge of alchemy and faintly fearful of the pain he knew could follow. Perhaps he should have waited for Ed, or conducted this simple experiment in controlled circumstances, but the snap of his fingers was instinctive, and by the time the power welled up in him, it was too late to turn back.

Pure yellow flames leapt in the grate, wild and graceful, but still under his control. Blue sparks danced at their edges for a moment, but Roy was almost blind to them as the hot, natural, glorious tide of power washed through his body. It felt as if he was sinking into the warmest sea. Heat lapped at his skin, soft and playful, and the alchemy felt as if it were dancing across his flesh. Never before had a transmutation been so natural and instinctive, and there was no painful retribution once the transmutation died, only a strangely sated kind of exhilaration.

‘You all right?’ Hughes asked warily from where he stood at the doorway. ‘Not about to keel over again, are you?’

Roy shook his head stupidly, rubbing a hand across his face as he dragged his eyes away from the fire. ‘That was the easiest transmutation I’ve ever done in my life. It was like breathing.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Hughes set the coffee down on the desk, as well as a small slick of files that Hawkeye had clearly segregated out as the highest priority. ‘There you go. You’ve probably got an hour before the lieutenant shows up. She’ll be suspicious as hell about you being in work early, but at least she’ll be happy you’ve made a start on your work.’ Hughes briefly left the room, returning a couple of seconds later with another mug before settling down in front of the fire.

‘Not that I don’t appreciate your company,’ Roy began as he sat in his chair and reached for a pen, ‘but don’t you have work to do?’

‘Yes, tons of it. However, if I set foot in that office before my secretary arrives at nine, there will be no one to filter out the calls of the police.’ He slurped coffee and made an appreciative noise. ‘I’ll be gone in an hour or so. Now, start talking. I know you can read reports and speak at the same time, the same as I know that you and Ed will both have worked on that code overnight. Is there anything I should know?’

When Roy hesitated, Hughes let out a quiet sigh, and Roy looked up in time to see him lean forward in the armchair, his elbows on his knees and his eyes intense. ‘I know secrecy is important, but right now too many people are worried about you. Me and your men for a start. We’ll all feel better if we know the facts, Roy. Don’t keep us in the dark.’

Roy sighed, knowing his friend had a good point. Part of him was hesitant to say anything, especially when all they had was theories and assumptions, but his men needed to know exactly what they were dealing with. Only then would they be able to work to the best of their abilities.

Slowly, he outlined what Ed had told him the night before, skimming the reports and signing his name as he did so. If Hughes noticed Roy’s distracted, rambling explanation, he did not seem to mind, and it was clear from his silence that he was taking everything on board. Most of it was supposition, but as soon as Roy fell silent, Hughes latched on to the few facts that littered the speculation.

‘Shared dreams, your hearts beating in time... I met Al on the way back to his room last night. He said something about the bond going beyond the soul. Looks like he was right.’ Hughes got to his feet, prowling towards the office bookshelves. Roy doubted he was seeing any of the titles there, but he knew that sharp mind would be churning furiously. ‘Question is, what else is it going to do?’

‘Our alchemy is already affected,’ Roy pointed out quietly. ‘That much is clear. The priest’s notes might give us some answers, but otherwise all we can do is wait and see.’

‘And hope you and Ed don’t kill each other in the process,’ Hughes finished for him, reaching out and taking down a photograph from the shelf. It was relatively new, taken about a year ago. He and Hughes were both in casual clothes, and the shot was slightly crooked as if whoever had taken it was a little the worse for drink. At first Hughes’ glance was cursory, but as Roy watched he saw his friend peer at it more closely, a frown marring his face.

‘What is it?’

Hughes looked up at him, speechless as he frowned fixedly at Roy’s face. It was disconcerting to say the least, and Roy raised his eyebrows in silent question as his friend continued to stare, lips parted and his fingers white-knuckle tight on the photo-frame.

‘When was the last time you looked in the mirror?’ he asked at last, his voice oddly croaky to Roy’s ears.

‘This morning,’ Roy replied in a hesitant voice, unsure where Hughes was going with this. ‘Why?’

‘You didn’t notice anything different?’ When Roy shook his head, Hughes turned the photo around for Roy to see, taping a finger lightly on the glass over Roy’s motionless visage. ‘Look at it closely. It’s subtle, but you don’t look the same as you did then.’

‘If this is your way of telling me I look old...’ Roy trailed off, looking blankly at the picture. ‘Seems all right to me. What exactly are you getting at?’

Hughes flicked over the empty, polished metal ashtray that always adorned Roy’s desk – perfect for any papers he wanted to dispose of in a hurry – and held it up so Roy could see his reflection. ‘In the photo you have a few laugh lines, frown lines, crow’s feet... You look like someone should in his early thirties. Now – .’ He wriggled the ashtray meaningfully, and Roy snatched it from his grasp, examining his own reflection, not just the overall familiar image, but the tiny details.

‘You look like someone in your twenties,’ Hughes said quietly, and Roy glanced up at him before pressing his fingers to the corner of one eye. There were faint lines there, more visible when he gave an honest smile, but they were far more subtle than the photograph depicted. It was as if someone had taken an eraser to his face and wiped away the years. If he had not been looking for the changes, he would never have noticed, but now he could see exactly what had caught Hughes’ attention.

‘It must have something to do with the bond,’ he muttered, propping his elbow on the desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Although I have no idea what, exactly.’

Hughes set the photo down on the desk and splayed his fingers over the surface, leaning his weight forward as he pursed his lips in concern. ‘Perhaps we should make that a top priority. For now, no one is going to notice the difference, not unless they know you very well. They’ll just think you look refreshed. However, if you keep getting younger...’ He sighed, shaking his head in honest bafflement as he propped himself on the corner of Roy’s desk. ‘What the hell is this thing doing to you?’

‘I wish I knew,’ Roy replied, peering more closely at his reflection before glancing over at his friend. ‘Ed and Al are working on understanding it, but...’ He trailed off, his mind going blank as a chill spread up his spine, seeping along his nerves like ice-water to take root in his heart.

He looked over at Hughes, swallowing tightly as he shook his head. ‘Alchemy doesn’t work this way. Nothing is free. If I’m looking years younger, then somewhere, someone else is paying for it.’ He glanced down at the array on his wrist, hidden by his sleeve and glove but practically burning him with its irremovable presence, and he knew that he and Hughes were thinking the same thing.

‘Ed.’


	9. Chapter 9

Ed leaned on the wall by the door, waiting as Al bustled around their tiny room picking up notes and books. It felt good to be out of the hospital, clean again and dressed in his normal clothes, but the lingering storm of guilty anger that rumbled in his chest completely clouded that fleeting happiness.

Mustang’s dream had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Even now, hours after and with daylight beyond the windowpanes, he could still feel the sand scouring his cheeks and hear those chilling screams. Worst of all, though, was that the sense of Roy’s hopelessness and grief had not left upon waking. Its echo lingered: a potent reminder that would not leave Ed in peace.

He knew that if the situation had been reversed, if Roy had stumbled accidentally into one of his nightmares to act as an audience to something private, he would have been furious. Still, that realisation did not ease the jolting, thrilling alarm that shot through him every time he remembered Roy’s unexpected anger. Never, in all his life, had he seen Mustang so emotional about anything. Normally Roy seemed to hold all feelings at arm’s length, going through the motions rather than experiencing any of them, but not this time.

Mustang’s rage was unmistakable, and responding in kind was the easiest defence. Ed clenched his jaw tight as he remembered the excuses he had snapped back at Roy. They were all true: Ed had not meant to stagger, blind and baffled, into the midst of anyone else’s dream. Sleep had simply deposited him there to walk mutely in Roy’s footsteps.

Maybe he should have said something earlier – should have urged Mustang to wake up before the nightmare got going – but Ed doubted Roy would have heard him over the cry of his own guilt. Besides, in the silence of his mind, Ed could admit that he had wanted to know more. Mustang was such a mystery to him, enigmatic in every way, and his voice had died in his throat as he shadowed Roy to the peak of that dune.

‘Saw too fucking much,’ Ed whispered to himself, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall before raising his voice. ‘Hurry up, Al. I want to get to the library and start work!’

‘You’ve barely stopped since you walked through the door at four this morning,’ Al pointed out in a meaningful voice as he reached under the bed for a stray sheaf of papers. ‘You really should still be in the hospital, Brother.’

‘I already told you, I couldn’t stay,’ Ed said firmly, shifting his weight and opening his eyes again. ‘Not after what happened.’

Al pursed his lips, gathering up the last of what they needed and handing Ed a stack of books. ‘You don’t want to talk about it?’ he asked, letting out a sigh when Ed shook his head. ‘Are you sure?’

‘It was Mustang’s dream. Bad enough I saw it; I don’t think he wants the world to know,’ Ed pointed out quietly, opening the door and stepping into the corridor. ‘Let’s just figure out how the hell to break this soul bond. The bastard nearly killed me for getting inside his head, and I sure as hell don’t want him in mine.’

Al jostled the papers in his arms before turning to lock the door, his youthful face set in a pensive expression. ‘You might not have much choice. I stayed up late last night reading, and I don’t think it’s going to be easy to undo the bond. It’s not just your soul that’s affected – your body and mind are part of it too. They’re all inter-linked.’ He shrugged, looking perplexed as they turned the corner and headed towards one of the main hallways.

‘That’s not the only problem, either,’ Al continued. ‘From what I was able to read, the bond tries to balance the two people it’s tying together. It equalises their heartbeats, their breathing... and there’s a heavy suggestion that the effects may be stronger between two alchemists, rather than an alchemist and a normal person.’

‘Great.’ Ed scratched at his eyebrow, shutting his eyes for a moment as he took that new information on board. ‘I thought you were meant to be reading “The Saffron Soul” book, anyway. You can’t tell me you got this information from there?’

Al had the good grace to look embarrassed. ‘Only the first two paragraphs are written in Amestrian; the rest is a foreign language that’s been encoded.’ He nodded in quiet agreement to Ed’s bitter curse. ‘ I don’t recognise it, and I thought it would be better to spend my time decoding something we can read. At least moving onto something else allowed me to find out more about the bond. The thing is, I don’t know what trying to break it might do to you and the general.’

Ed grunted, glancing down at his bandaged wrist. The black cuff of his jacket and the white of his glove almost completely hid the bound array, and for the first time since he had woken up in the hospital bed, there was no bright gold tether casting its line across his vision. If only its heavy, certain weight had vanished as well, he could almost pretend it had never happened, but he could still feel the shackling burden burning down beneath his skin. That, and the hot, droning, skin-crawling sensation that had happened whenever anyone got in the bond’s way kept rippling through his frame, almost constant now and distracting enough to set his teeth on edge.

‘Can’t believe it had to be him,’ he said. ‘Anyone else and it wouldn’t matter so much, but no: I have to be joined to a smug, manipulative shit like Mustang.’ Al gave him a look that suggested he was not convinced by Ed’s anger, and Ed hauled in a deep breath as he muttered, ‘What else is it going to do to us, Al? It’s not just that we share physical pain or energy or something; this is more than that.’ His shoulders slumped as a chill born of anxiety ran down his spine. ‘Last person I want to be stuck with all my life is him.’

‘I’m sure the feeling’s mutual, Brother,’ Al said calmly. ‘We’re doing all we can. The more we know, the more we can understand how to break it – or at least control it so things don’t get too bad. You just need to be patient.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ Ed ducked his head, trying to smother the sting that Al’s statement had left in its wake. Of course Mustang would want the bond to be gone. However they looked at it, Roy had got the raw deal. Most people in Amestris would probably faint at the chance to be tied to Mustang in any way, but instead Roy ended up with him: an ungrateful, annoying loud-mouth brat. Why would anyone want that?

Reaching the end of the corridor, Ed blinked and scowled when Al turned towards the office, rather than the way out. ‘Where are you going? I thought we were heading for the library?’

‘Not without reporting in first,’ Al said in an airy tone, giving Ed a knowing look. ‘Just because you don’t want to see the general doesn’t mean you can disobey the rules.’

‘Never stopped me before,’ Ed grumbled to himself, but surrender was his only option. In Al’s eyes, it was bad enough that Ed had discharged himself from hospital early. If he crept away now, with no escort and no one any wiser to his whereabouts, his brother would never forgive him.

The office door loomed ahead of them, and Ed squared his shoulders as he nudged his way inside. The room was familiar enough by now to be something like home, and the scents of strong coffee, ink and paper assailed his nose. It seemed as if everyone had decided to make an early start, because the place was already in full-swing, moving like a well-oiled machine beneath Hawkeye’s watchful gaze.

‘Brigadier-General Mustang would like to see you, Edward,’ she said, calmly reorganising piles of paperwork as Havoc added more to her desk. ‘He’s not in the best of moods, so I suggest you don’t keep him waiting.’

Ed grimaced, not needing any clues as to why Mustang was foul-tempered. Clearly what had happened this morning still preyed on Roy’s mind, and Ed’s fingers curled into loose fists as his blood simmered with annoyance. There was no fucking way he was apologising again. If that’s what the bastard wanted, then he would be waiting the rest of his life. Now, fully dressed and no longer tucked up in an invalid’s bed, Ed felt far more capable of meeting Roy’s anger head-on, and he shoved his way into the inner office before kicking the door shut behind him.

Immediately, the bond materialised, a taut line between himself and Mustang that glowed as brightly as the fire dancing in the grate. It was enough to make Ed wince at its intensity, and he saw Roy’s blue-clad shoulders slump a little. It seemed that, despite all the evidence to the contrary, they had both been hoping the tether had simply dissolved by itself.

‘Well, don’t you two look happy to see each other?’

Ed looked over towards the couch, seeing Hughes perched on the edge of the seat. Normally, the man would sprawl and laze around, but today something was different. He was alert and intent, examining Ed’s face as if he thought the answers to all their problems might be written on Ed’s skin.

Shifting uncomfortably, Ed shrugged, trying to ignore Hughes’ stare. ‘Hadn't seen the bond since I left the hospital,' he said by way of explanation. 'It turned up again as soon as I walked in here.' He jerked his head towards the closed wooden panel behind him before shifting his weight and folding his arms. 'Hawkeye said you wanted to see me?'

Roy's elbows were propped on the desk, his fingers woven together and his hands clenched as if in prayer. Dark eyes watched Ed unblinkingly over the top, and it was several moments before he asked, 'How do you feel?'

It did not sound like an idle question, and Ed flicked a glance back at Hughes before giving the answer a second's consideration. 'All right. Not as bad as I was, anyway.'

Actually, here in the confines of the office, he felt better than he had for days. The itching, buzzing sensation had faded to nothing now that there were no walls or people standing between him and Roy. Instead he was increasingly aware of a comfortable, contented glow trying to spread through his stomach. Tense muscles relaxed, and his temper, so close to the surface only a minute ago, receded with every breath he took.

'You don't feel... older?' Hughes asked, sitting up straight when Ed raised his eyebrows in confusion. 'Younger? Anything?'

'No,' he replied in a slow, wary voice. 'Should I?'

'Hughes thinks I look younger than I did. He's concerned it has something to do with this.' Roy ran a gloved fingertip along the golden wire, and Ed knew he was not the only one that felt the sudden bolt of pleasurable heat slam through him, more intense than ever before. Roy’s shoulders lifted with the same gasp of surprise that caught in Ed’s chest, and there was no way either of them could hide the sudden flush that warmed their cheeks.

‘Stop touching it!’ Ed ordered, shifting his weight back and fighting hard against the temptation to lick his lips. He was not sure what he hated more: the way the sensation seemed to go all the way through skin and bone to the core of him, or the way it left his nerves humming, practically begging for more. The only good thing about it was seeing Roy so startled by the sensation, shocked and more than a little embarrassed. He seemed unable to hide his expression, either, because he half-turned away, not meeting Ed’s eyes as he continued on as if nothing had happened.

‘You don’t feel any different, age-wise, than you did before this all began?’

Ed noticed that Hughes was trying to hide a wide grin behind his hand, and he scowled at the older man before snapping a reply. ‘How the fuck should I know? The automail always makes me feel old anyway. I haven’t felt my age for years.’

‘Unless there was a drastic change, Ed would probably show it less than you. There’s not a huge amount of physical difference between someone in their late teens and someone in their twenties.’ Hughes stood up, crossing the room to peer into Ed’s face. Ed met the scrutiny with bored eyes, lifting his eyebrows in question as Hughes shrugged. ‘To be honest, Roy, I only noticed it on you because I watch your face closely to read your mood, and I had a photo to compare it to. Ed getting younger we would probably notice, but he could probably age five or so years without any significant changes.’

Frowning, Ed tipped his head to the side as he examined Roy’s profile, trying to see what had caused the two men so much concern. Nothing struck him as unusual. Mustang looked no different, at least from this distance: pale skin, dark hair, and unreadable eyes that were currently turned away, staring blankly towards the fireplace. ‘He looks normal to me. Same as he’s been since I joined the military.’

‘He was in his mid-twenties when you first signed up,’ Hughes pointed out. ‘Most people would kill to still look like that when they’re edging towards thirty-five.’

‘I’m thirty-two,’ Roy corrected in a low, warning voice, turning his head to look at Ed more fully. ‘There are changes, but they’re subtle. We probably wouldn’t have noticed if Hughes wasn’t obsessed with taking photographs. Have you found anything in the notes that could explain what’s happening to me?’

‘And more to the point, how much younger he’s going to get,’ Hughes added, moving towards the desk and picking up a photo-frame before putting it on one of the book-shelves. ‘At the moment, it’s not a problem, but if he continues to get younger then people are going to start asking the kind of questions we can’t answer.’

Ed shrugged, absently biting his lip as he remembered what Al had said a few minutes ago: something about balance. ‘Give me Scieszka to help with the decoding, and I might have an answer for you by the end of the day. I’ll be in the library,’ He glared at Mustang, letting the challenge show in his eyes as Roy frowned in response. ‘Unless you think you’ve got something more important for me?’

He watched Roy’s jaw clench, a brief, silent display of his annoyance before Mustang finally nodded his head. ‘Havoc and Falman will go with you,’ he said, fastidiously straightening his pen on the desk. 'I’ll let the police know where you’ll be. Report back to me at the end of the day, and Fullmetal?’

Ed had already turned towards the door and he looked back over his shoulder with a frown to find Roy’s expression was almost desperate. ‘What?’

‘For god’s sake, find something we can use.’

Ed let the slam of Mustang’s door answer for him. The wood banged hard in its frame and the handle rattled in its socket, but the abrupt change in his mood made him hesitate. Gone were the warmth and subtle comfort. His anger, mere annoyance at best while in Roy’s presence, flared into something hard and volatile, intense enough to make him grind his teeth. For one brief moment, he was tempted to turn around and walk back into that room – to reclaim that gentle glow that had eased away all the lingering shadows of stress – but Ed straightened his back and shook his head, gesturing for Al to follow him as he marched his way out into the corridor and headed for the wide, cool streets of Central.

'Are you all right?' Al asked, hurrying to keep up and looking over his shoulder as Havoc and Falman both followed them. Their footsteps clattered down the steps before being muffled by the packed dirt of the parade ground, and Ed made an irritated noise, too wound up to answer.

Finally, he blew out a breath, slowing down a fraction to let Roy's men catch up. 'Just the bond fuckin' with me. If you find anything about it affecting moods, let me know.'

'I've not seen anything yet, but I found something last night that looked like observations. You know, on the others he bound to his disciples.' Al's voice was low with sadness, and something dark and cold washed through Ed. There had not been time to grieve for those that were gone, not yet. Their families could not even give them a funeral while they were still part of an active investigation, and something in Ed's guts went tight when he thought of Greg, cold in the morgue and with no one else to care that he was gone.  
  
'There's nothing we can do to help them now,' he said with quiet force, more to himself than his brother, 'but they can help us. The priest was an intelligent bastard, and he would have noted down every little thing. Concentrate on studying those, and I'll keep going over the array design.' Ed winced, feeling the warning groan of a headache behind his eyes already. 'Why he's doing this is not as important as how we go about turning things around.'

'Just to let you know, Boss, there'll be two policemen there already. We already got a warning call from Anders that one of them would be that idiot Warner.' Havoc gave a faintly malevolent smile when Ed cast a disbelieving look over his shoulder. 'We'll keep him off you back if we have to. That's what Anders has been trying to do, but she's got orders from higher up to let Warner do his duties.'

'Great.' Ed scowled, kicking hard at a rock as they marched out of the command compound and turned into the busy street. At this time of the morning, the pavements were crowded with commuters, and cars purred back and forth along the road every couple of minutes. It was an easy matter to lose himself within the noise, but the further away from the command tower he got, the worse Ed began to feel.

It was not the same sick, tired feeling that had occurred on the way to Tannam, but the scorching, irritable feeling like insects with burning feet crawling over his skin was nearly as bad. Normally whenever anyone got in the way of the bond he felt something similar, but this was amplified beyond anything he had experienced before. It rasped across his tongue with every breath and resonated through his bones. It was not pain, exactly, but it was far from pleasant – the complete opposite to what happened when Mustang touched the bond – and Ed could feel every muscles coiling tight with the ever-increasing tension.

By the time they reached the library, it seemed to have reached the pinnacle. No agony had suffused him, and there was no reason he could not work, except that it was almost impossible to concentrate. He stomped past Warner and a younger, sallow-faced police officer, cast a challenging look at the purse-lipped librarian behind the desk, and made a bee-line for one of the secluded reading rooms.

Yet even sequestered away in there, with Al at his side and papers spread all around them, it was like trying to read a book in a crowded room. Normally, he could easily immerse himself in his work, but now he was picking up the shattered pieces of his concentration every few minutes, and the threatening headache was blooming full force behind his eyes.

‘You look like you’re about to commit murder,’ Al whispered, glancing towards the open doorway where Havoc and Falman stood sentry. So far they had kept their promise. Warner had not been able to squeak so much as a word in Ed’s direction, but he still stood there, just beyond the threshold, watching them like a bedraggled, bitter hawk.

‘I just – I can’t –’ Ed sighed, propping his elbow on the table and pressing his palm to his forehead. ‘Can’t concentrate.’

‘You feel ill?’ Al asked, already shuffling papers into a pile. ‘We can go back to the office if you want.’ He said it just loud enough for Havoc and Falman to hear, too, because when Ed looked up they had both slipped into the room and were watching him with concern.

‘It’s not like that,’ he said hurriedly, shaking his head and regretting it. ‘I just feel hot and itchy and...’ There were no words to describe it, and in the end he had to settle for a vague grunt of, ‘Edgy, somehow. It’s the same feeling me and Mustang get when someone gets between us, but worse.’

Falman made a small sound, clearing his throat before offering a faint smile. ‘Logically, that makes sense. The greater the distance between you, the more people are likely to cut through the bond.’ He glanced over his shoulder, and Ed saw the police hovering nearby, trying to eavesdrop.

‘Interference from other people’s souls,’ Al whispered. ‘Something similar is mentioned in the notes, but I didn’t connect it to what was going on between you and the general. I’ll follow it up and see if there’s anything else I can find.’ He dragged another stack of papers towards him, eyes already scanning the page and the stubby pencil in his hand poised for action. ‘Brother, you may as well go back to the office. The closer you are to the general, the better you’ll feel.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ Ed muttered quietly before setting his shoulders in a stubborn line. ‘I’m staying here.’

Roy’s men both nodded as if they had never expected him to say anything else, and Havoc let out a sigh. ‘I’ll watch the door. You tell the Boss what we worked out earlier,’ he said to Falman, giving Ed a cryptic little shrug as he sauntered back to the threshold to give the encroaching police a cold, steady look. ‘Military secrets,’ he muttered in explanation, and Ed forced himself not to smirk at Warner’s spluttering disbelief.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked Falman, leaning forward as the older man sat down opposite with his back to the door. Quietly, he nudged a scrap of paper covered in quick, neat calculations towards Ed, who picked it up with a confused frown. ‘What is all this?

‘In theory, it’s the maximum distance you and the general can be apart before you are incapacitated by ill-health.’ Falman pointed to a figure at the bottom of the page. ‘It’s an estimate, and we have erred on the side of caution, but according to Lieutenant Havoc you were already too ill to function by the time you got to Tannam, which is only thirty-two miles away.’ Falman winced as if he knew Ed would not like the answer, but he carried on anyway, his shoulders straight and his expression serious. ‘A conservative guess suggests you and the general should not be more than twenty miles apart while the bond is active. Any more and you’ll start to visibly suffer.’

Ed stared down the page of Falman’s neat calculations, knowing that he would find no errors among the digits. At first glance, twenty miles did not seem so bad, but it was still an invisible leash around Ed’s neck. For a couple of days, even a week, he could probably cope. He and Roy could figure out an excuse to both stay in the city, but what if they did not break the bond in that time? What if they were stuck with it for months, or worse, years? Was he really meant to spend the rest of his life practically glued to Mustang’s side?

‘One other thing to add,’ Falman said, his voice quiet and nervous. ‘This is based on the time scale of Havoc noticing you were unwell. There’s a good chance that you could start to feel worse-for-wear in half, or even a quarter of that distance. Like Al said, even now, you’re not exactly yourself. The closer you are to the general, the better.’

Ed gave a single, slow nod of understanding, not trusting his voice to come out as anything but a whine. Somehow he doubted Roy would be any happier to hear just how much the bond limited the distance between them. ‘Thanks,’ he said at last, giving a grim smile. ‘At least with any luck it won’t take us by surprise again. Have you found out anything else?’

Falman nodded, reaching into the file clutched in his hand and pulling a few pages loose. ‘I’ve been trying to match the description of the priest that you gave me to anyone in the military records. These are the possible matches.’ He slid the pages face-down over the desk to Ed. ‘If any of them look familiar, tell me. Handing that information over to the police should give them something to chew on for a while.’

They both glanced over to where the police loitered, glaring at Havoc as if they thought they could make the lieutenant cower with their gaze. Ed gave a doubtful huff as he turned over the papers. 'These are from military files?' he asked, skimming through the sparse information and turning, each time, to the faces captured within the slim white borders of the mug shots.

'Not exactly. There are one or two soldiers in there, but mostly these are people who, for some reason, have come to the military's attention. Likely candidates for the state alchemy qualification, or simply people who need to be watched.' Ed looked up in time to see Falman scratch the back of his head, a wince of embarrassment on his face. 'Not that we always keep tabs on them of course.'

Ed grimaced, knowing all too well how often people could slip through the cracks and vanish from the army's sight. How many times had he been sent to chase someone down who had tried to simply disappear? It did not always work; the army caught up eventually, but some – the brighter or more cunning – always seemed to be one step ahead.

He was almost at the bottom of the slim pile when one of the photographs made him pause. The face was different, unscarred and younger, and the hair was brown and long, rather than close-cropped and grey, but all Ed had to do was look at those mocking eyes and the faint smirk on those thin lips to know that this was the priest. His intelligence and arrogance practically seeped from the image, and Ed turned his attention to the page, frowning at the scant information: name, date of birth and height written on the headed paper of the state alchemy certification board. The only other information was a single word: "Promising".

'Tomas Danner. That's him.' Ed turned the picture around to show it to Falman. 'Fucker's been through hell since that photo was taken, but it's still the same guy. What made you think he could be a suspect?'

'Most of his file was missing. The picture’s old, probably taken almost twenty years ago. Our record-keeping was bad back then, but there would have been more than that. Someone's been tampering.' Falman took the picture from Ed, giving it a hard look before nodding. 'I'll hand the police a copy and focus my search. Between the army and Anders' men, we should be able to dig up something more on the man. Maybe we can find out where he's been all this time.'

Ed nodded his thanks, turning back to the notes spread out in front of him as Falman got to his feet. He could hear the man's quiet instructions to the police officer, and Warner's answering snarls of doubt were easily audible in the quiet library.

'Of course he's come up with a suspect. Anything to throw suspicion off of himself!'

'You need to get your head out of your arse and pay attention to the facts,' Havoc said coldly. 'You want to put your neck on the line and refuse to follow a lead, then fine. It's you who'll lose your job, but I bet your partner isn't willing to take that risk.'

Ed glanced up to see the man at Warner's side shake his head, hand already held out for the file. 'I'll get it to Deputy Inspector Anders and see what we can come up with,' he said, shooting a quick, uncertain look at Ed. 'If it's a dead end, we'll know by the end of the day.'

'It will be,' Warner snapped, shoving his way past Havoc and bracing his palms on the table where Falman had been positioned moments before. 'I'm watching you, Elric, and I know I'm right. You're behind all this, and I'll find some way to prove it if it kills me.'

'Good luck with that,' Ed mumbled, already scribbling a hasty outline of the energy flow through one of the sketched arrays. It seemed easier to concentrate now, as if the creeping, crawling sensation of the bond's interference had started to ebb, and his gaze flew across the page as Warner continued to speak.

'Do yourself a favour and confess,' Warner suggested, his voice smooth, almost placatory, as if he thought he could convince Ed to put his name down for five murders with nothing but coercion. 'Maybe they'll cut you a deal, rather than shoving you against a wall and putting a bullet in your brain like you deserve.'

Al put his pencil down with a loud 'snick', and Ed looked over to see his brother sitting with his arms folded, glaring at Warner with cruel intelligence. 'Some people might question why you're so eager to put my brother away, Officer Warner.’

Warner’s lips twisted into a sneer. ‘Because he’s guilty, and his friends can only protect him for so long.’

‘Hmmm,’ Al’s eyes narrowed, and his voice was a soft, threatening murmur as he continued. ‘Normally, an officer convinced of another’s guilt will focus on the evidence to prove their conclusion. Your actions are more desperate than that. Guilty conscience maybe?’ Al shrugged. ‘Max was in on it, after all, so why not you too? Are you trying to frame my brother and get away with murder yourself?'

Over by the doorway, Havoc stifled a snort of laughter, and Ed grinned as Warner gaped in something like horror. 'That's – I – I would never...'

'Then do your job and find some proof,' Al suggested. 'Or people might start to take my idea seriously.' He made it sound like a promise, and Ed bit his lip at the mix of emotions Al's protectiveness inspired. Part of him wanted to laugh at it, but there was also a hint of annoyance because, to Al, this was no joke. Ed's little brother had turned ruthless, at least when it came to keeping their tiny family intact, and this time was no exception.

Warner was struck speechless by Al's threat. Most people were, when they came up against the steel wall of Al's intelligent anger for the first time. Alphonse was known for being placid, and that hard streak in him was shocking in its unexpectedness. Now the police officer appeared to be struggling to respond, and it was only when Al looked down at his notes again, clearly dismissive, that Warner stumbled backwards towards the door, body tense with anger and his strides quick and jerky as he marched from the room.

'More officers will be along shortly,' he snapped at Havoc and Falman. 'I have more important things to do than babysit a couple of children.'

'You're not up to it anyway,' Havoc replied with a laugh, leaning back against the wall outside the door. He and Falman were a solid, friendly comfort, and Ed felt some of the tension slip from his muscles. The military's presence was one he was used to, but the police always made him feel guilty as sin. Even without Warner's pointless accusations, he always got the feeling they were waiting for him to put a foot wrong. At least Roy and his men were used to Ed fucking up by now.

The clock on the wall ticked quietly in the book-lined peace and, minute-by-minute, Ed found himself regaining his focus. With every breath he took, he was able to lose himself within his work, until he was flying through the translation plucking the diamonds of knowledge from the scree of ignorance that scrawled its way across the page. One paragraph after another revealed itself to him, and Ed scowled as he realised the document was another batch of observation notes. There were one or two arrays, but most of it was meticulous narrative of a disciple and victim, brimming with gems of knowledge about the soul bond.

He was just getting to decoding the observations on the third day when the sound of footsteps made him look up. Havoc and Falman had both straightened up in surprise, and the two new police officers who had arrived while Ed was lost in a fugue of work stepped hurriedly aside to allow Mustang past. He stomped into the room, a scowl fixed on his face and his arms full of paperwork. Following meekly at his heels was Sciezska, her brown hair in disarray and her glasses askew as she struggled not to drop the stack of reports in her arms.

'This is ridiculous,' Roy growled, dumping his workload on the desk and dragging a chair out before sitting down and giving Ed a hard, angry glare. 'How can you concentrate with that distracting, crawling sensation going on all the time?'

'He can't,’ Al answered before Ed got a chance to open his mouth. 'Let me guess, you left the office about twenty minutes ago. Is that right, Brigadier-General?'

Roy nodded, slumping in his seat as Hawkeye marched in with another, slimmer stack of dossiers. 'I couldn't get any work done.'

'You don't do work anyway,' Ed muttered, giving Roy a petulant look before glancing at the clock. He knew exactly what Al was getting at. Twenty minutes ago, it had started getting easier for him to focus because Mustang was closing the distance between them and there were fewer people wandering through the line of the soul bond. Now, with Roy in the same room and the tether glowing between them, that soft, tender feeling was starting to bloom once more, as addictive as opium smoke.

'You're already considerably behind, sir,' Hawkeye pointed out, handing Mustang a pen before settling down near Scieszka. 'Perhaps you should take advantage of Edward's proximity and focus on your papers?'

Roy gave an irritated sound, but Ed could already see those straight shoulders starting to relax, and the tight, military posture ebbing from Mustang's frame. The frown on his brow gradually smoothed itself out, and his rock hard jaw softened as he settled to the task at hand.

Ed had to admit, it felt good to have Roy that close. In a strange way he could not quite define, it was comforting, and it took him a couple of seconds to realise he was staring at Roy like an idiot. Blinking, he tore his eyes away, forcing himself to look down as Al set Scieszka up with some notes to decode.

If the complexity of the task put her off, she did not complain, and Ed knew that the talented young woman would never utter a word about what she found. She was too discreet for that, and besides, she would probably be more intent on the code itself than the information within.

Taking a deep breath, Ed returned to his own efforts. It was like slipping into a hot bath, beautifully easy now he was familiar with the code, and he sped through one page after another, not only shredding the cipher but taking in everything that was revealed beneath the encrypted layers. In an abstract, purely alchemical sense, it was fascinating. The complexity of the reaction was immense, and Ed could see this was a case of a simple change having immense consequences.

In theory, an alchemist could bind another soul to his own to act like an extra power source for his transmutations. The stronger the person, not just physically, but in personality and will, the more power the alchemist could receive.

However, even Ed could see that was a delicate choice. If the alchemist bound himself to someone who was too strong, there was a good chance he would find himself the battery for that other person. Even a non-alchemist could make good use of the energy contained within a soul, and it seemed that was what had begun to happen in this experiment. It looked like the priest had tied the victims to those disciples that had an alchemical ability, but in this case the disciple had been too weak. Once the bond activated, the victim had gained strength while the alchemist weakened.

Ed cringed, feeling his stomach turn as the notes continued in the same vein, describing every nuance. The priest had attempted to redress the balance, but he had failed, and the victim had been terminated. A short note at the bottom of the page detailed the disciple’s fate: in the three minutes it took for the victim to die from the wound, the disciple had experienced massive internal bleeding. He slipped away along with his bond-mate.

'You all right?' Al asked quietly, nudging Ed with his elbow. 'You’ve gone pale.'

Ed nodded, shuffling the pages together and putting them to one side. 'I'm fine. At least the priest took detailed notes. This victim was too strong-willed for the disciple and almost drained his life away in a matter of days. Don't think that's quite what the priest had in mind.'

'From what I've read, he tried to choose strong-minded disciples for his trials. Maybe that one was the first attempt,’ Al suggested, glancing over Ed’s shoulder at the notes. ‘They’re not all dated, so it’s hard to say.’

Ed gave a faint grunt of agreement, but when he looked up he saw his little brother's face was etched in sad, pained lines as he read through another document. As soon as Al realised Ed was watching, he put the stack down and picked up another before giving a bright, glassy smile. 'There's so much information, it's hard not to get lost in it. From what I've seen, every bond has helped one soul feed the other, but that doesn't seem to be happening between you and the general.'

‘It wasn't so great in the beginning,' Ed pointed out, remembering Mustang's improving health after the abduction while he had felt increasingly drained.

'But with all the victims, the bond never seemed to stabilise as quickly or as completely as it's done between the two of you. It's been, what, a few days? The longest any of these test subjects survived was three weeks before they were murdered, and they were always nothing but an energy supply for their bond-mate.' Al handed Ed a piece of paper, and he skimmed his way down the page, picking out the pertinent details.

'The bond still tried to equalise them,’ he mused aloud. ‘Same heartbeat and breathing rate, but it didn't seem to have any effect. One side was always weaker than the other.' Ed frowned, trying to make sense of what he was reading. 'They're all like this?'

'Three of the five are. The fourth was the one you've read who was stronger than the disciple, and the last one –' Al swallowed tightly, glancing towards the papers as if they were a snake waiting to strike. 'The last one is the report on Greg.'

Ed felt the weight of Roy's pity from the other side of the desk. It did not matter whether Mustang was watching them or not, the bastard would still be listening and taking in every word he and Al said. Besides, Ed was painfully aware that Roy had not scrawled his signature on anything for the past five minutes. He was probably too intent on listening to what Al had to say.

'How can you tell it's Greg?' Ed asked, trying to keep his voice natural when all it wanted to do was choke in his throat.

Al chewed his lip, clearly hurting on Ed’s behalf as he confessed, ‘His name's on it, probably because the results are the closest yet to what's happening between you and the general.'

Ed reached over, snatching the notes before Al could stop him. Maybe other people would not have wanted to know what had befallen their lover, but to Ed the ignorance would be far worse. At least this way his imagination would not race mercilessly from one worst-case-scenario to another. 'I thought the bond was behaving this way because me and Mustang are both alchemists, but Greg couldn't transmute anything. Why did he respond to it differently than the other victims?’

'The priest sounds like the bragging type. Didn't he say anything about it?' Al's question was not just for Ed, and he looked up in time to see Mustang shake his head.

'I was incapacitated from the moment I was abducted,’ he replied quietly. ‘If he did mention anything useful, then I didn't hear it.'

Ed screwed up his face, trying to sort the mess of his memories. Fear and adrenaline had ruined their clarity, but something still tickled at the back of his mind, as chilling as it was confusing. 'He said something about Greg being a better subject because we'd been close,’ Ed said quietly, squaring his shoulders defensively. ‘I just thought he was talking shit. Why would it make any difference?'

'From what you've said, he seemed to think you and Al were both special in some way. The answer's probably in that book you were working on yesterday.' Roy's suggestion was softly spoken, and Ed looked up into his face, trying to read something from those impassive features. Bonded or not, it was an impossible task, and Ed scowled.

'The damn thing is written in a foreign language and locked up in code. At least this I can understand.' He gestured to the research notes before propping his elbow on the table and frowning bitterly down at the work in front of him. ‘Better to concentrate on these for now. I’ll deal with the book later.’

There was more to be said; Ed could feel the questions hovering in the air around him, but they remained unvoiced as he rounded his shoulders and ducked his head a little lower. Al could read him like a book and Mustang knew all there was to know about body language. Clearly both of them got the hint that Ed was done talking, because neither of them said another word as the minutes ticked by.

At some point, sandwiches and coffee appeared, but Ed ignored the half-hearted attempt at lunch. He was not hungry anyway. All the time he was reading, a voice was whispering in the back of his head that the subject of these observations was no stranger. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from picturing Greg afraid and intimidated by the alchemy being wrought not only on his body but on his soul.

When Ed finally reached the last page, he forced himself to stop. Reading about the influences of the bond on his lover was one thing, but he did not need to see that ultimate statement about his murder.

The priest had scrutinised Greg’s reactions far more than he had those of the other victims, and Ed scrubbed at his eyes, not sure whether to be pleased or horrified at the meticulous level of detail. At least now he had a few answers to the endless questions that screeched around his head, but he was still no closer to finding out how to undo the bond.

Something rasped across the desk, and Ed blinked blearily at the plate Roy had nudged in front of him. A sandwich from lunch still lay there, waiting to be eaten, and Ed pulled a face before reaching out. His stomach felt too twisted to be able to digest anything, but after a few bites his appetite recovered a fraction, and the plate was soon empty of anything but crumbs.

Around them, the reading room was beginning to darken with the end of the day. Hawkeye got to her feet, switching on the lamps as Scieszka put down her pencil and flexed out her fingers. Al stretched his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders before pushing the notes away with a sigh. 'There's so much here, it's getting harder and harder to sort out what's useful and what's meaningless. Did you find out anything?'

Ed nodded, tapping his pencil against the desk as he stared unseeingly at the empty plate in front of him. 'Greg's the only one whose bond reacted anything like the one between Mustang and me. With the others, it's just a parasite, one that drains the victim until there's nothing left.' Ed clenched his jaw, glancing over at Al before turning to meet Mustang’s intent gaze. 'With Greg, it was self-sustaining. The alchemist he was bound to could perform large transmutations, and the bond was strong and stable enough to help Greg recover from the energy drain. It was more symbiotic than any of the others.’

'It went both ways,' Roy said, his tone making it a statement, rather than a question. 'Either the priest changed the array somehow, or Greg was a better candidate than any of the others.'

'At this stage, there are very limited changes in the design,' Al replied. 'I think Greg was different, and we need to know if the priest was right about it being due to Ed’s involvement.’ He sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair as he looked at Ed. ‘Looks like we are going to need the translation of that book after all.'

Scieszka cleared her throat, giving a faint, wary smile as she handed over a bundle of papers. 'Why don't you let me look at that? I can at least undo the code while you're reading something more meaningful, and then we just need to find someone to translate it.’ She pushed her glasses up her nose, smiling as Al retrieved the slim, clumsily bound volume from his bag and handed it over.

'It's not too thick, but it's not a language I recognise.' Al shrugged before giving Scieszka a tired, earnest smile. 'Maybe you'll have more luck.'

'I'll do my best,' she promised, opening the cover and setting to work immediately. For a moment there was near-silence in the room, but it was short-lived as Roy leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table with lazy grace.

'Have we actually found anything that might help?’ he asked. ‘Any way at all to break the bond? He sounded desperate, and Ed knew the feeling. Last night's sleep had been broken, and reading all day made his eyes burn with exhaustion. Slumber waited for him in the wings of his mind, and neither he nor Roy wanted to open themselves up to an intruder in their dreams.

‘Only if you don’t mind being killed in the process,’ Al replied. ‘As soon as one half of the bonded pair dies, the bond breaks. It’s just that the one left behind doesn’t survive very long.’

'What?' Hawkeye asked, speaking up in a sharp voice. Until now she had maintained her silence, but all Ed had to do was look at her to see the fear Al had inspired with his statement. 'Are you saying that if someone were to kill Edward, then the general would also die, and vice versa?' She sucked in a sharp breath when Al nodded, moving to her feet in one swift motion as she scooped the files up from the table. 'I'm going to tighten security. It's one thing to protect them both, but knowing they are each other's weakness?' She shook her head, her lips pursed tight. 'I don't like this at all.'

Ed heard her issue orders to Havoc and Falman, who both still stood guard out in the corridor. Whatever their response was, it must have been satisfactory, because her footsteps receded as he turned back to his brother. 'Not all of them died. When the priest was going on about it, he said that one of them survived – that he was being "looked after" or something.'

'It doesn't sound like he was the same man he was before the bond was broken,' Roy pointed out, tipping his pen back and forth. For a moment he looked half-hypnotised by the gleam of the light on the metal, but realisation brought sudden, sharp focus to his eyes. 'Didn't the police say they found one of the priest's followers in the cells? His throat had been cut, recently and in a hurry. What if he was the survivor?'

'Why didn't they take him with them?' Ed asked, rummaging through piles of notes and trying to find any evidence of the one person who had lived beyond the destruction of his soul bond. 'Was he really that much of a fuckin' liability?'

'He lost his mind.'

Al's words cut through the room like a knife, and Ed paused with his hand outstretched, blinking at his brother in surprise. Al was holding a single page of paper, and Ed realised it was the final leaf of the report on Greg, the one he had not dared to read. 'What?'

'It says here that he never regained his mental faculties, suffering delirium and confusion.' Al's free hand clenched into a fist on the tabletop, white-knuckled as he continued to read to himself in silence. 'It says he was obsessed with the thought that someone had stolen a piece of him – he kept demanding they give it back.'

Across the desk, Roy bowed his head, splaying his finger-tips across his forehead as if he were trying to rub away a headache. Instantly, the gentle heat that had been simmering beneath Ed's skin twisted, growing more intense as his arms ached with the need to reach out and soothe. Gritting his teeth, he forced his hands to stay where they were, staring fixedly at the tabletop as he mentally cursed the bond for what it was doing to him.

'So what you're saying is there's no way to break it,' he muttered, shooting a dark look at his brother.

'Not that we’ve found,' Al replied, getting to his feet with a sigh. 'I know it's not much of a consolation, but your bond is both stronger and more stable than any of these. Maybe if we keep reading we can find a way, but it can wait until tomorrow.' Al pulled some of the papers away from Ed, glancing pointedly out of the window. Darkness spread its tide beyond the panes, and Ed could hear the librarians scurrying around and chasing out stragglers.

Ed scowled, knowing that their time in the library was up. His stomach felt hollow from lack of food and his throat was dry and rasping, yet there was no room for simple needs amidst the swarm of his thoughts. He went through the motions of packing up on auto-pilot, realising too late that Al and Scieszka had wandered out of the room already, leaving him and Roy alone in the dusty room.

‘I know it’s not a way to break the bond,’ Ed said gruffly, breaking the silence as Roy clumsily stacked up the reports that he had scattered across the battered library table, ‘but me and Al have found out a fair bit about how it works.’ He reached out, grabbing some of the files before Mustang dropped them and heading for the door. ‘The alchemy tries to balance the bond. It worked best with Greg, and the notes said something about the disciple becoming younger.’

‘Did it say how much?’ Roy asked, matching Ed’s stride easily as Falman, Havoc and the police escort followed a short way behind. Their footsteps echoed through the library, almost sacrilegious in the peace, and Ed made an uncertain motion.

‘Not exactly, but the priest thought it was trying to bring Greg and the disciple towards the same age, so Greg got older while the guy he was bonded to became physically younger.’ He stared fixedly ahead, trying to ignore the burn of Roy’s gaze into his profile. It did not take a genius to do the maths. Fourteen years lay between him and Mustang, so if the bond tried to make them match, then Roy was seven years younger, and Ed...

‘You don’t look much different,’ Roy pointed out almost accusingly.

‘Yeah, but I don’t look in the mirror and see a teenager,’ Ed replied, trotting down the steps and pausing at the bottom to adjust the folders in his arms. ‘Same as I never saw myself as a kid either.’ It sounded ridiculous said out loud, because looking back on it Ed could see that he had been a child, no matter what he said otherwise. Yet his reflection had always held an old soul, wise in the worst ways. Nothing could change that. ‘It doesn’t matter, anyway. You probably won’t wake up tomorrow and find you’re only eighteen or something.’

Roy’s faint huff of laughter tugged an answering smile onto Ed’s lips. ‘Thank god for that. Is there anything else I should know?’

A soft, cool breeze stirred the night, lifting Ed’s hair back from his face as he sighed, trying to sort through the mess of knowledge the day had dumped at his feet. He was dimly aware of Roy’s men listening in behind them, and Al and Scieska’s intent silence up ahead. In the end, as much as he and Roy were at the centre of this mess, they were not the only ones involved, and there was no way anyone they cared about could be kept in the dark for long.

‘No one else seemed to have the dream thing,’ he said at last, trying to keep it vague. If Mustang wanted to tell his men about Ed’s trip into his nightmares, he could, but it was not Ed’s place to betray his privacy like that. ‘At least, they never mentioned it. The only other thing was that Greg’s notes mentioned the same sensation we get when someone gets in the way. The day before they killed him, there was an observation that neither of them were adversely affected by someone interfering with the bond anymore.’

Roy bowed his head, and when he spoke his voice was heavy with sympathy. At any other time it would have grated along Ed’s nerves – an assumption of weakness – but something in him resonated to the tone of Roy’s voice, grateful for the clumsy show of emotion. ‘I’m sorry, Ed. I’d tell you to get someone else to read those notes, but I know you’d never agree to it. If there’s anything I can do...’

‘You’re already helping me find the fucker, right?’ Ed replied, lifting his chin up and giving Roy a crooked smile. ‘At least we know that the bond won’t always react to other people stepping through it. That’s probably a good thing, since it doesn’t look like we’ll be breaking it any time soon.’

The wind almost whipped away Roy’s grunt of agreement as they turned onto the parade ground, leaving the police at the perimeter as they hurried towards the sprawl of the command building. Chills shuddered down Ed’s back, and his automail gave a faint, uncomfortable squeeze. He probably would not have paid it any attention if Roy’s eyes had not narrowed in pain at the same time, and a flicker of unfocussed guilt shot through Ed’s heart.

‘You all right?’ he asked quietly, raising a doubtful eyebrow when Mustang nodded. ‘I’ll try and keep it warmer; it’ll probably stop you from hurting so much.’ Roy looked briefly baffled, and Ed realised he had not leapt to the same inevitable conclusion. ‘Your left leg and right shoulder hurt, right? Somehow I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Al did say the stupid bond tied up the body and mind as well as the soul. You’re probably feeling the same ache the automail’s giving me.’

Roy paused halfway through the act of rolling his shoulder, looking at Ed in grudging surprise. ‘I didn’t make the connection,’ he said quietly. ‘Does it always hurt like this?’

Ed shrugged, watching the blank linoleum floor pass beneath his boots as he walked along the corridor. ‘Some days it’s better than others. You get used to it eventually, although hopefully we won’t be bound long enough for that to happen.’

Up ahead, Scieszka bid them a quiet goodnight before heading towards the Intelligence Department, and Al came to a halt, waiting for them to catch up as Roy issued orders to his men. ‘Take these back to the office for me, and then get some rest. If Hawkeye wants to know where I am, I’ll be safe in my suite getting some sleep.’

Ed surrendered the dossiers in his arms to Falman, knowing that Roy was not relishing the idea of slumber. He was no more keen to get his head down, but his body had other ideas. Too much pain and shattered sleep had filled the past few days, and even his hunger could not over-ride the thick, slow feeling that was creeping through his frame.

‘I’ll be back in our room, Al. I’m too tired for anything else. Been up since fuck knows what time.’

Al nodded, already turning towards the canteen. ‘All right, Brother. I’ll bring something back for you in case you wake up hungry. I won’t be long.’ He trotted off down the corridor, readjusting the bag on his shoulder as he ducked around the corner and out of sight. Havoc and Falman both followed not far behind, leaving Roy and Ed to turn left towards the sleeping quarters.

Both of them were walking with the sluggish pace of the truly exhausted. Ed was not sure if this had been creeping up all day, or if the tiredness was echoing back and forth along the bond, being amplified with every stride. By the time he got to the door of the room he shared with Al, all he could think about was the nest of blankets waiting for him on the other side. His fingers fumbled clumsily with the keys, and it was only when he had wrestled the lock open that Roy spoke.

‘I’d say sweet dreams, but...’ He shrugged, his lips quirking with weary humour. ‘Just try and stay in your own head tonight, Fullmetal.’

Ed grunted, looking down at the glimmering line that still cut through the air between them, as unbreakable as any physical chain. ‘Can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.’ He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to blink away the burn. ‘Think I’m too tired to dream, anyway. ‘Night, Roy.’

The name slipped past his lips without him even noticing, weirdly intimate, but it was Roy’s soft, low-voiced reply that stroked heat down his spine.

‘Sleep well, Ed.’


	10. Chapter 10

Roy had a complicated relationship with sleep – he would be the first to admit that – but never before had he found himself staring at his bed with so much trepidation. Despite the exhaustion swirling around his mind he had forced himself to stay awake throughout the evening, drinking coffee and fidgeting endlessly around the cramped quarters of his suite.

Hoping Ed would fall asleep first and therefore already be dreaming and out of reach by the time Roy closed his eyes seemed sensible enough, except that Ed was not asleep. He might be however many rooms away and utterly out of Roy's sight, but he could feel that wakeful, twitchy presence at the other end of the bond. More than once it had felt like Ed was standing right at his shoulder, glowering and muttering curses, but every time he turned around there was nothing there but shadows and lamp-light.

Now, at last, he had reached the inevitable point of no return. Leaden muscles dragged him towards the mattress as his clumsy fingers worked their way down the buttons on his shirt, wresting each one free before the fabric slid to the floor. The bed sighed around him as he slipped naked between the sheets, and he buried himself in the thick feather quilt before reaching out and flicking off the lamp on the side-table.

Lazy thoughts drifted through his mind, nipped at the heels by worry of what he might inadvertently share with Ed tonight. There was so much of himself that he would rather keep hidden, guilty secrets and innocent truths alike, and the thought of Ed having his pick was enough to make Roy's heart go cold in his chest. Yet what other option was there? Neither of them could stay awake indefinitely, and even now the evidence was speaking for itself. If one of them was wide-awake, then the other would not sleep. It had been the same last night, when Ed had been working and Roy had desperately tried to rest. Perhaps they did not plunge into unconsciousness in the same instant, but Roy would bet that they fell asleep within a few moments of each other.

How much further was this going to go? How much longer before Ed could read his god-damned mind?

Roy screwed up his eyes, turning his face deeper into the pillow as he tried to remind himself it might not come to that. They did not know where this bond would take them or what it would do to them in the process, but there was nothing to suggest that the link would really open them up like books to one another. Besides, he did not need a bond to know what Ed was thinking half-the-time; it was always written all over the brat's attractive face. All these years and Ed had still not managed to hide what was racing through that ice-bright mind of his. In the military world of secrets and lies, that kind of honesty was almost charming, even if it was hideously naïve...

Roy blinked at the sluggish, random train of his thoughts, smothering a yawn as his eyes drifted shut. Headquarters never quite fell silent, and he listened to the occasional march of footsteps along the corridor and chatter of soldiers as they wandered back to the dorms. It did not take long for sleep to fold around him like soft, dark wings, and Roy knew no more until the dream broke around him.

Instantly, his body tensed, braced for some kind of attack, and he stared around the foreign bedroom in wary curiosity. It was not one he recognised; relief was drowned out by the sudden, sharp concern flashing through him. He had been so worried about Ed intruding in his dreams that he had not believed it could happen the other way around, yet here he was, his feet planted on a wooden floor as solid as anything out of reality and his mind as astute and rational as it was when he walked through his waking moments.

This, though, was not what he had expected. Dawn lit the window at his back, weak and milky, but it still filled the room with an ethereal glow, bathing white sheets and the bare, broad expanse of Ed's back. Gold hair fell over those mismatched shoulders, tracing fine, bright lines across his honeyed skin, and Roy swallowed against the dryness in his mouth as he watched as Ed's flesh thumb swept over the tanned curve of his lover’s shoulder.

Greg was awake, lying on his side and facing Ed. By all rights, he should have seen Roy standing there – torn between the need to stare and the urge to turn away from the intimate scene – but he had eyes for no one but the aureate man in bed with him. Perhaps only the dreamer could be made aware of an intruder's presence, but if Ed knew Roy was there then he showed no sign of it.

Roy had seen the police photographs of Greg, but they were a pale ghost of reality. Short, dark brown hair spiked on the pillow, and the first faint lines around his eyes suggested he laughed more than he frowned. He was older than Ed, and not just by a year or so, but somehow they seemed to fit together: Ed more mature than his physical years and Greg with that youthful light in his eyes that only murder had cut short. Even now, Ed's lover was smiling with soft warmth, as if everything was right with the world.

And Ed – _Ed_ – who snapped and snarled and growled whenever anyone got too close was stunningly peaceful. All that edgy energy had gone, drained away and replaced with something tender, warm and strong in a different kind of way. Roy could only see the very edge of Ed's profile, but he did not need to see that face as Ed nudged playfully at Greg's forehead with his own, saying something soft and laughing in a way Roy had never heard before: not harsh and sarcastic, but genuinely happy.

It made Roy's heart ache, and he clenched his jaw, folding his arms as he turned away from the bed. He had no right to see any of this, but even as he looked around for a way out, he realised that there was no escape. Ed had been caught in the same predicament last night: unable to do anything but bear witness to Roy's nightmares until Roy dragged them both from sleep. If he wanted to get out of here, then he had to get Ed to wake up. Except that involved admitting being here in the first place, and however furious Roy had been to find Ed amidst his memories of the war, there was no doubt that Ed would match that rage at having Roy here.

His throat pulsed with choked off words, and he clenched his hands into fists as he licked his lips, trying to force his voice to work.Yet before he could speak up, the light in the room turned dim as if a cloud had passed across the sun, and grey, innocuous shadows took on a darker, more threatening edge.

Looking back at the bed, Roy could see that Greg was fading away, and he saw Ed curl up tight, alone now, as one whispered sentence stirred the air.

'Please don't go.'

A split second later, the words echoed back, no longer a quiet hush, but something bitter and desperate, screamed in a child's voice that rang in Roy's ears and made every inch of his skin crawl. The air turned thick with fear as the last of the light went out, and Roy had no time for anything more than a gasp as the floor vanished from beneath his feet, dropping him down into thick, dense night.

He landed on stone, knees bent and hands splayed out to steady himself. Bare fingers touched something hot and wet, and the stench of blood slammed into him, making his throat close up with its intensity. Somewhere above his head he could hear a wild, storm-thrashed sky: rain slapping into the ground in punishment as the wind howled its accusations.

Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, picking out books and suits of old, abandoned armour, as well as other, miscellaneous junk. It looked like someone's basement, and every nerve that Roy had turned harp-string tight beneath his skin. Primordial instincts screamed at him to get out, but his feet felt as if they were fused to the ground, unable to move.

An array marked the floor, the lines smudged and distorted by the recent ash of hideous alchemy. What lay in its centre looked like something from a slaughterhouse, and Roy’s stomach turned as he saw human skin and hair amidst the mess. It reminded him of the disciples, their ribs splayed wide and shocking white by the power that had torn through them, but the dead creature in the midst of this array was not the alchemy’s only victim. Even before Roy saw the boy, he knew that this was a mix of nightmare and memory, and even though he warned himself not to look, he was helpless to stop himself.

Rationally, Roy knew that Ed had lost his leg to the transmutation and given up his arm to capture Al’s soul in the armour, but until tonight he had never allowed his mind to dwell on the visceral horror of the truth. Somehow, when he had imagined it, it had been clean, quick and cauterized by alchemy’s power. Yet nothing was further from the truth. Bright red blood spilled from the child’s broken body, and Roy had seen enough soldiers killed to know what dying breaths sounded like. Blonde hair was tainted brown with the mess, and those bright eyes were nothing but faint slits, watching him blindly.

Impulse made Roy step forward, hands outstretched to do _something_ , but a heavy grip on his shoulder made him stop, hauling him back as Ed’s adult voice hissed through the air.

‘Don’t.’

Roy looked over his shoulder at Ed, the one he knew and recognised, rather than the shattered child at his feet. His expression was cold without an inch of forgiveness, and it took Roy a moment to realise that none of that loathing was aimed at him. Instead it seemed to be directed at the boy on the floor, and Roy shivered again as the dream continued to play. He did not understand how Ed was both on the floor as a child and next to him, a grown man observing it all with a critical eye.

Something metallic clanged to life, making Roy start, and he let out a shuddering breath as the armour containing Al’s soul juddered upright, bright, burning eyes focussing instantly on his bleeding brother as that tinny, child-like voice rose in fear.

_‘No, Brother! Please don’t leave me!’_

As if all the light in the world had been snuffed out, the scene turned to pitch, full of pain and the kind of whispers that lingered on the edge of hearing: indistinguishable words brimming with hate and threat. Fear flicked to terror, pure and elemental, and Roy’s spine snapped him upright in a sweat-drenched bed, eyes wide in the gloom as his breath rasped loud in his ears.

Logic raced against instinct and came second place, leaving him fumbling for the light as reality began to creep back. He was in his suite in military headquarters, and even though the stench of blood still seemed to fill his nose, he knew the floor would be clean of its taint. There was no array here, no bloody mess of a mother and her desperate, savaged child. Just him.

God, sometimes he hated waking up alone.

It had not even been his nightmare, and he had never realised how utterly terrifying the mess of another person’s subconscious could be. When Ed had intruded in his dream, all Roy had thought about was his own fear and embarrassment at the invasion of his privacy. Now he realised that Ed must have woken up disorientated and baffled, shaken up by what he had seen. The owner of the dream could rationalise it, could wrap the sharp edges of terror up in soft logic and solid reasoning, but to the observer it was happening for the first time, and that jarring shock was enough to leave Roy feeling sick in his own skin.

His lips twisted in a self-mocking grimace, and he shook his head at himself. ‘You’re a fucking fool,’ he whispered, chewing his lip as the shadows bore silent witness. He had been so wrapped up in his fear of Ed getting into his dreams that he had neglected consider that the situation may be reversed. Worse, he had foolishly thought that any tortured imagining of his subconscious would far outweigh anything Ed’s mind could conjure up.

What he had seen was not the broad, lingering taint of war, but the sharp knife-strike of personal tragedy: not once, but twice. How many other hells had Ed dragged himself through in the intervening years? Roy knew there was a lot that Ed never mentioned about both his assignments and his life beyond the walls of Central command. Previously, it had been hard to muster more than passing concern in the face of Ed’s stubborn glare, but now Roy’s stomach twisted tight with uncertainty.

Quickly, he flipped back the bed covers, getting to his feet and fumbling around for something to wear. Living in headquarters meant that the military was always present, but he turned his back on his uniform and dragged on a loose pair of cotton trousers and a t-shirt. He was not ready to be General Mustang yet. For god’s sake he was barely feeling up to being human, but there was no way he could lie in bed and let his mind dwell on what he had seen.

Roy stumbled through to the kitchen, turning all the lights on as he went; darkness was not something he could tolerate at the moment. He put the kettle on, more to keep himself busy than anything, but as the water steadily began to boil, he found himself staring towards the door. Part of him felt compelled to go looking for Ed. The urge to offer comfort was almost overwhelming, even though he was very aware that Ed was more likely to lash out than accept any such thing with good grace.

It would be a bad idea to go looking for Ed now, who was probably angry rather than afraid or in need of company. Besides, he had Alphonse. What reassurances could Roy possibly offer that Ed’s little brother could not? The bond made it easy to forget that he was nothing more than Ed’s commanding officer. It tricked his mind into thinking that something closer to friendship and trust lingered between them, and such a belief was a mistake, pure and simple.

Blearily, he reached for the coffee, groaning aloud as he realised he had drunk the last of it in a vain effort to stay awake only a few hours ago. If he wanted a hot drink, then he was going to have to go out and look for it.

He dithered there in his kitchen, debating whether to put on his uniform and stagger to the canteen, but before he made up his mind a clumsy knock banged on his door. Clearly whoever it was did not care whether they woke up anyone else who might be trying to sleep nearby, and Roy’s heart stuttered uncertainly as he realised who his visitor must be.

For a moment, he considered hiding in his room and pretending he was asleep, but Ed would know the truth. The bond still whispered between them, as strong as ever, and Roy let out a faint sigh. He should face Ed’s inevitable and justified anger like a man. If nothing else, Ed was persistent; he would track Roy down eventually. Best to get it over with.

Bracing himself, Roy padded out to the hallway and pulled the door open, half-expecting to get punched in the face with a metal fist. Instead he was greeted with the hot, strong scent of coffee emanating from the two mugs clasped in Ed’s automail hand.

Ed followed his gaze and gave a small shrug. ‘No fuckin’ way I’m going back to sleep tonight. Didn’t think you’d be much better. You going to let me in, or what?’

Such thoughtfulness was enough to put Roy off-balance, and he glanced uncertainly at Ed’s expression before checking both ways along the corridor and gesturing him inside. The harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor had drained the life from Ed’s face, but even in the softer glow of Roy’s rooms, he did not look much better. His eyes were sullen, underscored by swollen shadows, and his jaw was clenched tight. He had chucked on the black vest and leather pants, probably the first thing at hand when he got out of bed, and now he placed the coffee mugs down on a nearby surface before folding his arms and giving Roy a hard, searching look.

‘I’m sorry.’ The words leapt from Roy’s lips instinctively, finding flight as he swallowed a tight knot in his throat.

‘For what?’ Ed asked, picking up his mug and taking a sip, regarding Roy with predatory eyes through the steam. ‘Ending up in my dream or yelling at me for finding my way into yours?’

The sharp question was enough to make Roy stop and think. Ed had every right to be angry, just as Roy had been, yet so far there had been no outburst. Oh, it was there, a snarling wild thing on a tight leash behind the window of Ed’s gaze, but right now it was under flawless control, and Roy wondered whether that was a skill Ed had developed or another gift from the bond.

‘Both,’ he said at last, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. ‘I didn’t quite believe you when you said it happened by accident.’

‘Like I’d get into your head on purpose.’ The grimace on Ed’s lips did not last long, and he rolled his shoulders, rubbing his empty hand across the back of his neck. ‘You all right?’ he asked gruffly, sighing when Roy’s brow lifted in surprise. ‘I know what it’s like waking up from someone else’s dream. Just want to make sure you’re not going to freak out on me, that’s all.’

Roy thought of the bloody array and the stench of pain thick in the air, but he had no right to ask the questions that rose in his mind. Seeing Ed’s nightmare was one thing, but asking him to willingly give up his secrets was a whole different ball-game. Yet there was one thing that lingered on his mind – a niggling, pedantic detail that was getting on his nerves – and he picked up his coffee, speaking to the steaming drink rather than meeting Ed’s eyes.

‘In the beginning of that, you were part of the dream, not an observer,’ he began, licking dry lips before taking a sip and swallowing it down. ‘The same happened in mine. I was going through the motions of the dream as an active participant. Why, down in the basement, were you standing there watching yourself, rather than in the middle of it all? It just – stood out as different, that’s all.’ He trailed off, taking a fortifying gulp of hot coffee and not caring if it burned his tongue. Roy did not expect an answer, and he lifted his head in surprise when Ed wandered past him, heading towards the sofa as he started to speak.

‘It’s always been like that. Fuck knows why. Al thinks it is to do with the trauma of it – says it’s something to do with trying to distance myself from the physical pain of the memory or some shit like that. I’m never the boy on the floor.’ Ed shrugged, and the simple way he could speak about what must have been the worst moment of his life was almost shocking. ‘Haven’t been a kid since then anyway.’ He sat on the sofa, drawing one knee up to his chest and draping an arm across it before lifting the mug in his other hand and taking a gulp.

Tentatively, Roy sat down next to him, still wary of a sudden flare-up in Ed’s temper, but the young man seemed oddly peaceful, as though he were resigned to the inevitability of Roy’s presence in his dreams rather than surprised by it. Words kept lining themselves up on his tongue – useless sympathies years too late and helpless questions that were better left unsaid – and in the end, it was Ed who broke the silence.

‘I’m sorry I screwed up another decent night’s sleep.’ Ed scowled into his mug. ‘I would have just worked on the notes, but it would have woken Al up and then he’d have wanted to talk about it.’ Ed pulled an almost comical face, and Roy wondered how many times Al had dragged the truth of the nightmares from his brother over the years. ‘That’s the last thing I need.’

A shudder worked its way across Ed’s skin, and Roy set down his mug, getting to his feet and retrieving his gloves from where they lay on the tiny desk shoved in the corner of the room. He pulled them onto his hands before turning back to face the room. ‘Working is the last thing you should be doing, anyway,’ he said softly. ‘Just because you’re awake doesn’t mean you’re not exhausted. You’ll burn yourself out if you’re not careful. Have you tried going back to sleep?’

Ed shook his head, a brief, firm motion that sent his ponytail slithering forward over his shoulder. ‘The whole stupid mess would just repeat itself. Once is enough for tonight.’

‘You dream that a lot?’ Roy asked, wincing as he felt something, some cold stab of emotion that he could not identify, resonate along the bond that pulsed gently between them.

Perhaps it was too personal a question, because Ed’s eyes narrowed faintly, and his response was like a slamming door. ‘Probably about as often as you dream of killing all those people.’

Sucking in a sharp breath, Roy forced himself to focus on the fireplace as he snapped his fingers, letting the alchemical power swarm through the air and explode around the logs. Ed did not so much as flinch at the display of easy energy, and his face only dropped into a deeper scowl as Roy replied, ‘You mean “murdered all those people”. There’s no point in pretending anything different, is there?’

The clank of Ed’s coffee mug on the low table in front of the couch made Roy turn to look at him and, despite the weariness stamping itself across Ed’s features, Roy could still see the defiance there. ‘The people who gave the orders are the murderers. Alchemists are tools or weapons, especially in a war. You know that.’

‘A weapon with a mind,’ Roy murmured, folding his arms and staring into the fire that danced in the grate. It was so distant from the infernos that had engulfed more than one Ishballan town by his hand. ‘I could have said no.’

‘You’d have been shot for it,’ Ed said without hesitation, getting to his feet and moving closer to the fire, palms outstretched and body turned to capture its warmth. ‘I’m not an idiot. I know what happens on a battlefield. I’m not saying you’re not guilty of something, but there’s no fuckin’ way it’s murder. If it is, then every soldier in the military’s just as bad.’

Roy pursed his lips, wondering if Hughes had sought a quiet word with Ed about the dream, but when had the man had the time? He knew Intelligence was snowed under with work, and Ed had spent most of yesterday in Roy’s company. No, Hughes would not have had time to explain the warped excuses for the war’s atrocities, so Ed’s reasoning was his alone.

Somehow, it was enough to slacken the tight, rusted chains of guilt that had twined themselves through Roy’s ribs since he had first clicked his fingers and taken a life. Their weight would never fade, not really, but for the first time in years they were easier to bear. Ed was pure in the strangest of ways, with a black and white view of the world. The fact that, even after witnessing what had happened in Ishbal, Ed could firmly place Roy in the “good” section of his mind was almost impossible to believe. Yet he crouched by the hearth, honest and serious, lethally intelligent, and watched Roy as if he were waiting for the next argument so he could have the pleasure of shooting it down.

Instead, Roy returned to his seat on the sofa, deftly steering the conversation away from himself and onto their shared problem. ‘We can’t carry on like this. From what we’ve found, breaking the bond won’t be easy, and neither of us can function on a couple of hours’ sleep a night. I wonder if it might be worth considering a stop-gap measure.’ He sighed, leaning back against the feather stuffed cushions and watching the firelight turn the precious silver of Ed’s automail to molten gold.

‘What? Like try and dream happy things?’ Ed gave a snort of bitter laughter. ‘Don’t think we can get it to work that way, Mustang.’ He shifted his weight, his unlaced boots rasping on the hearthstone as he scowled into the flames. ‘Though I guess we are more lucid inside them – not exactly in control but –’

‘But definitely fully aware,’ Roy finished, nodding tiredly. ‘Maybe that’s something we can work with, although I don’t know how, quite. It makes me wonder what other _gifts_ the bond has in store for us.’ He did not bother to keep the dread out of his voice, and he let his breath out in a sigh as he felt the vast, uncontrollable unknown of what the priest’s transmutation had done to them once more. ‘We learn more about it every day, but we still don’t know the full extent of what it’s doing to us.’

He glanced over to see Ed staring thoughtfully at the gloves that were still sheathing Roy’s hands. In this light, the array stood out almost black, and Roy glanced down at them before raising an eyebrow. ‘What is it?’

‘The bond might not be all that bad,’ Ed said quietly, a faint, crooked smile twisting his lips as Roy spluttered in disbelief. ‘Okay, so there’s a lot of shit that we can’t control, but for all we know it enables us to do things that other people can’t.’ Roy’s face must have given away his uncertainty, because Ed rolled his eyes as he asked, ‘You’ve not tried to do alchemy without an array or your gloves yet, have you?’

Something like excitement jolted in the pit of Roy’s stomach as he followed Ed’s train of thought. They had discussed the possibility of array-less alchemy back in the hospital, but there had been no opportunity to try it out. ‘I didn’t really get the chance, but I don’t think...’ He almost allowed the twitch of shock to show as Ed leaned across the small space separating them and yanked one of Roy’s gloves off his hand. It was so quick Roy did not even have time to clench his fist to stop him, and he could only glare at Ed in annoyance. ‘Is this really the best time to start playing with alchemy?’

‘You won’t let me work,’ Ed pointed out, moving his shoulders in a graceful shrug. ‘Besides, when you’re getting it right, alchemy is as easy as breathing. You don’t even need to think about it, it’s just –’ He waved a vague hand as if searching for the right word. ‘There.’

Roy remembered what it felt like when he had lit the fire in his office that morning. Normally getting the gases to behave was a strain, but in that moment alchemy seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Ed made it sound so easy and, for the first time, Roy thought he could understand just how differently Fullmetal saw a transmutation from the average alchemist on the street.

'Take the other glove off. All we need is something easy and safe to try it out. Could be you won't be able to do a damn thing.' Ed turned away, and Roy allowed himself a mute frown of disappointment at the thought of his childish excitement being so brutally crushed. He had never thought of doing alchemy without an array or the assistance of his gloves before, but as soon as Ed mentioned the possibility, it lit a spark of enthusiasm in Roy's chest. He had relied on his gloves since he was Ed's age, and the thought of being able to perform alchemy with nothing but his body as a conduit was like a whole new world of possibility opening before him.

Ed was clattering about in the tiny kitchen, and he returned with a bowl of water before placing it on the floor in front of the fire. 'Sit down. You don't need to complete the circle, because the bowl does it for you. Just picture an array that works with water and touch it.'

'That's it?' Roy asked, sitting on the opposite side of the bowl to Ed, wincing as he crossed his knees and his joints cracked softly.

If he did not know better, he would have believed Ed was laughing at him, because there was a certain mischievous light dancing in his eyes, and his crooked grin seemed far too mocking. 'Yeah, Mustang. It's _that_ easy. Go on then. Just remember to picture every detail of the array, or it won't work.'

Feeling more than a little self-conscious, Roy did as Ed instructed, closing his eyes and trying to recall the unfamiliar, rippling designs of a water-based array. Cooling it down would probably be safer than heating it up, and he focussed on an ice array as he reached out and touched his bare palms to the curve of the bowl.

Seconds ticked past, embarrassingly void of any transmutation, and Roy cracked one eye to see that Ed was giving him a smug look. 'Brat,' he muttered. 'You're not telling me all of it, are you?'

'I am, it's just that you've turned into a lazy shit over the years, Mustang. Never having to draw an array or even think of one. All you have to do is snap your fingers and your alchemy's right there.' Ed reached out for a pencil and a scrap of paper on the coffee table, drawing something with quick competence and holding it out for Roy to see. 'Hold that picture in your mind and try it again.'

The design was simple, basic: the kind of thing you taught to children who showed any interest in alchemy, and Roy frowned in annoyance before giving in with grudging obedience. He kept waiting for the power to come to him – for that rush of warmth and energy to flow along his nerves and into the transmutation to bring it to life – but none emerged, and he dropped his hands with a sound of annoyance.

'Maybe it's not seeing the gate that allowed you and Alphonse to perform alchemy without an array. Maybe it's something else: like genetics.' Roy folded his arms, trying to ignore the tired, faintly amused look that Ed had on his face.

'Yeah, right, because inherited abilities just turn up by themselves one day. Put your hands back on the bowl and keep your mind blank. I'll try something else.'

'Like what?' Roy's wary question earned him an exasperated sigh from Ed, and it was a few seconds before he bothered to answer.

'It’s too hard to explain. You're just going to have to trust me.'

For a few heartbeats they watched each other, Roy waiting for Fullmetal to back down when Ed clearly expected inevitable surrender. Unfortunately, it seemed that Ed knew Roy better than he would have ever believed possible, because the lure of his alchemical curiosity outweighed his instinctive distrust of all but his very closest friends.

‘Put your hands back on the bowl, and try not to think of anything,’ Ed ordered, ‘especially not any arrays.’

‘How am I meant to do alchemy if I don’t –’ Roy’s chest filled with a gasp of surprise as Ed’s mismatched hands covered his own. His nerves thrilled at the touch – so new and completely different from anyone else, but before Roy could even drag in another breath, the alchemy sparked to life. Heat surged up his arms, skirting that strange border between pleasure and pain, and Roy blinked as he saw delicate lines of lacy ice form over the surface of the water.

He never noticed Ed taking his hands away, and it was only when the bright blue light of the transmutation took on a warmer edge that Roy realised he was the one in control. His mind was a blank slate of shock, but the energy coursing through him was like warm water flowing through his veins, comfortable and easy.

Finally, the reaction died, leaving a thin layer of ice ferns clouding the water in the bowl, and Roy tentatively pulled his hands back from the ceramic surface before looking up at Ed. 'How did that happen?' he asked sharply, needing an explanation before he would allow even a hint of his exhilaration on his face. 'I wasn't even thinking about alchemy.'

'But I was,' Ed replied. 'I gave it a kick start and kept the array in my mind, but the power was running through you.' His eyes flicked pointedly to the bond-line between them. It was no longer a straight, wire-like glow in the air. It twisted around their respective wrists lovingly, forming brief, vine-like coils before it smoothed itself out once more. 'I'm guessing it has something to do with that. I can think of an array, and you can activate it. Try again.'

Obediently, Roy returned his fingertips to the bowl, and this time there was no hesitation. Electricity buzzed along his nerves as his being hummed with the bright incandescence of power. Instantly, the ice melted and the water began to steam, and Roy let out a breath he had not realised he was holding. 'Who's controlling it?'

'You. All I'm doing is picturing the array,' Ed replied bluntly, getting to his feet and wandering back to the kitchen before filling a jug with water. 'You should be able to do the whole thing on your own, but you gotta work out how to picture an array in your head. Most alchemists think in bits and put them together as they draw. If you don't have all of it in your mind, then it'll either not work at all or blow up in your face.'

He walked back around the low surface separating the kitchen from the living room and gave Roy a critical look. 'If we can get this to work, you can use the arrays on your gloves and clap as well. You won't have to worry about getting wet anymore.'

'And what if we try and do two different arrays at the same time?' Roy asked, grimacing as he realised that the interference of two transmutations could be deadly. 'We know our minds are connected, at least a little bit. If we're visualising different arrays and activate them, what happens then?'

Ed shrugged, kneeling in front of Roy and moving the bowl away. 'I dunno. We'll need to try that out later and see how the bond behaves. Concentrate on this.'  
  
Roy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew the expression on Ed's face well. Perhaps, on some level, he was doing this to help Roy, but it was far more likely that Ed was already thinking of pushing the limits and finding out just how far they could go. Whether it was the Gate or the bond that had gifted Roy with the ability to do alchemy without drawing arrays was almost irrelevant. What mattered was how much he could do, and where the line of the impossible was drawn.

'Just think about ice,' Ed said quietly. 'I'm not going to help you, so if you don't get this right, you're going to get wet. Don't forget to press your palms together.'

Before Roy could splutter a protest, Ed tipped the jug, pouring the chilly water over Roy's hands. A few small torrents poured over his skin, bitter enough to make him wince when they landed in his lap, but the alchemy came easier this time. The simple array bloomed in his mind and, as soon as he pressed his hands together and opened them again, the water froze in a slippery, cloudy dish-shape, briefly sticking to the skin of his palms before he was able to modulate the temperature.

Looking to Ed for approval was almost automatic, and a tired, honest grin met Roy's questioning glance. 'Don't get cocky, Mustang, this is easy stuff.'

'A week ago, it was impossible,' Roy pointed out, ebbing the power back before turning the lump of ice over in his pink palms. The grin crossed his lips unbidden, and he dumped the ice in the nearby bowl before stretching his hands out towards the fire. This was his real domain: golden heat and the invisible flow of gases. Fire arrays were second nature to him, and he brushed his fingertips together before tempting one or two tongues of flame to bend closer to him, dancing like snakes as they flickered out into the room. 'This is incredible.'

Ed gave a faint hum of agreement, and Roy glanced over his shoulder to see that Fullmetal was sitting on the sofa, his face turned towards the fire and his eyes at half-mast. He looked lazy and content, as if he had gained huge satisfaction from their simple experiment, and Roy had to admit it was better than sitting around and trying to avoid the nightmare’s wraiths that lingered in the room.

Getting to his feet, he moved to the sofa and settled at Ed’s side, watching the fireplace as he murmured his thanks. ‘It’s an amazing feeling, and I don’t think I would have been able to work out how to do it by myself.’

‘You’d have got there eventually,’ Ed replied, his words stretching out on a yawn. ‘I just sped things up a bit and showed you how to get started.’

Roy smiled to himself, snuggling back in the soft cushions and propping his feet up on the coffee table. ‘You make it look easy. One clap and you can do anything. I never realised how much concentration it takes. How you do it in the middle of a fight is beyond me.’

‘You get used to it.’ Ed stretched, glancing towards the still-dark windows before looking back at the grate. ‘Eventually it’s almost automatic. Is it just picturing the arrays that’s hard?’

Normally, the question would have sounded belittling, but Ed’s curiosity was genuine, and Roy nodded his head. ‘The rest of it is so simple. More so than it’s ever been before, but visualising a flawless design when I’m safe is one thing, doing it under pressure is another matter.’

‘So stick with your gloves,’ Ed replied with a shrug. ‘They’re going to be best in a conflict situation anyway, but at least this way if someone takes ‘em off of you, you’re not going to be as helpless as they think.’ His smile was wicked, and Roy wondered how many times in the past Ed’s enemies had underestimated him, only to get a nasty surprise. ‘Course, if you practice, you could get really good at it. Then nothing’ll stop you.’

It was said with quiet confidence, as if any other alternative was unthinkable, and Roy glanced over to see Ed’s eyes were almost closed. Not even coffee had been able to stave off the heavy drag of exhaustion. Roy could feel its weight on him, slowly crushing the lingering fear of what their dreams might bring. He had no idea how long they had been awake, but with every passing moment, the warm comfort of the suite was drawing closer around them.

The thought to send Ed back to his room crossed Roy’s mind, but it lasted no longer than a moth in a flame-thrower. In Ed’s company he felt safe and strong. The bond glowed between them, no longer an alien presence but something he was beginning to accept; perhaps that was why he craved Ed’s presence. Either way, Roy knew he could not bring himself to move, and he let out a quiet sigh of contentment as, just like Ed, his eyes steadily drifted shut.

No dreams shattered Roy's sleep. Perhaps, at last, the exhaustion had become too intense to create a canvas for the surreality of his subconscious, because the next thing he knew was the soft morning light streaming in through the small windows in the far wall. It bathed his face, tempting his eyes open a fraction.

The fire had burned itself down to nothing but glowing embers in the hearth, but its heat lingered on in the room, better than any blankets the military could provide. Stiff muscles creaked in protest as he shifted position slightly, curving his arm around the body curled up at his side and nestling closer to the smaller frame. A sigh whispered against the bare skin of his neck, enough to drag him a little further from sleep's tropical tide, and he blinked his eyes open wider before glancing down at Ed.

A frisson of shock jolted through him, but it was short-lived, drowned in moments by a mixture of amusement, pleasure and wary fear. They had fallen asleep on the couch and, at some point in sleep's oblivion, they must have edged closer to one another. It was surprisingly comfortable, but somehow Roy doubted Ed would appreciate waking up plastered to Roy's side and held captive by the arm wrapped around his mismatched shoulders. Still, he was unwilling to wake Ed just yet, and he allowed himself a quick moment to check the younger man over.

The shadows under his eyes had faded, wiped away by only a few hours rest, and his skin had returned to its natural golden colour. He seemed to enhance the pale sunlight, giving it strength and power, and it took Roy a moment to realise that part of what he was looking at was the ethereal glow of the soul bond. It wove around them like a chrysalis, wrapping them in an aureate bubble. It should have seemed threatening, this unknown prison, but Roy knew deep in his heart that it was about sanctuary, not captivity. Over the past few days, the bond had seemed like a punishment, but gradually Roy was beginning to wonder if perhaps it was more a blessing than a curse – at least in some ways.

Before he had a chance to puzzle over it further, the wavering sphere began to fade, ebbing back into its familiar, linear form, and Roy realised that Ed was stirring against him, mumbling something incoherent. Tentatively, Roy tried to disentangle himself from Ed's clinging form, stubbornly ignoring the way his body whimpered and keened at the loss of contact. It was nice to wake up with someone else at his side, that was all, but this brief interlude of shared sleep had been an accident of circumstance – nothing more.

He stubbornly ignored the whispering thought that, perhaps, it was Ed in particular he enjoyed waking up to see nestled against him.

A sharp knock at the door made him jerk in surprise, and Ed shot upright, almost whacking Roy's jaw with the top of his head as he looked around in confusion, glowering at Roy's suite as if it were enemy territory. His hair was everywhere, slipping from the rough ponytail to trail over his shoulders, and fine gold stubble shadowed his chin. Roy had never noticed that before, and his lips parted around a question before the hard, tapping demand on his door repeated itself.

'Sir, it's a quarter-to-ten.' Hawkeye's voice was heavy with weary disappointment, but there was a resigned edge to her tone. 'If you do not answer this door by the time I count to five, I will shoot the lock off.' She did not add that she would drag him out regardless of his state of dress, she did not have to, Roy knew her too well to doubt her.

With a guilty glance at the clock, Roy cleared his throat, painfully aware of Ed getting to his feet and stretching his arms above his head, lithe and graceful. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll be in the office by ten.’

‘I suggest you hurry, sir. Deputy Inspector Anders is waiting.’ She paused before carrying on in a quieter voice as she added, ‘I also suggest you make sure that the corridor is empty before letting Edward leave. You wouldn’t want to add fuel to the rumour mill.’

Ed looked over his shoulder, and for a moment Roy was captivated by the faint flush on those cheeks. It was rare that Ed ever looked uncertain about anything, but now his lips were parted temptingly, and his unkempt hair served to drag Roy’s mind into the gutter. In the blink of an eye, the heat in Ed’s eyes was gone, covered by a shield of indifference. He jerked his head towards the door, one eyebrow raised in an obvious question.

Roy could only take a deep breath, trying to make his shrug as nonchalant as possible while something hot writhed in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea how Hawkeye knew Ed was here, but she made a good point. Ever since Ed had joined up there had been whispered gossip about the precise relationship he and Roy shared. Over the years, they had persisted, becoming more obviously lewd as Ed grew. If anyone saw him leaving Roy’s rooms, then there was no doubt about what people would say, and Roy would rather avoid any such speculation.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant. I shall see you shortly.’ Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, cocking his head so he could catch the faint sound of Hawkeye’s departing footsteps before turning to look at Ed, who had already collected the two mugs and was heading towards the door. Something in Roy leapt in panic, desperate to keep him here, but he shoved it ruthlessly aside as he tried to keep his voice steady. ‘Anders will probably want to talk to you too, Ed. We should make some kind of effort not to arrive at the same time.’

‘I’ll beat you there,’ Ed replied, his hand on the doorknob and a grin on his lips as he looked back at Roy. ‘You spend far too fuckin’ long in front of a mirror. See you later, Mustang.’ He poked his head over the threshold, obviously taking Hawkeye’s advice and quickly checking the corridor before stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Quietly, Roy groaned to himself, hauling his aching, needy body up from the nest of the sofa and trying desperately to keep his mind on the essential, rather than let it linger on Ed. He made efforts to prioritise as the seconds ticked away: Breakfast and coffee were both out, as was a shower, but he stumbled towards the bathroom anyway, rushing to answer the call of nature before brushing his teeth.

It was only when he picked up his razor that he hesitated, remembering anew the light golden stubble on Ed’s jaw. Eighteen was easily old enough to shave, but Roy could recall his teenage frustration at being unable to grow anything like decent facial hair. Yet Ed’s morning shadow had been dense, the kind that would normally have been found on the chin of a man in his mid-twenties, rather than one still in his late teens.

With a sigh, Roy set about shaving, careful not to nick his skin as he stared blankly at his reflection. Yesterday, he and Hughes had been unable to see any changes in Ed; there was nothing to indicate he was getting any older or younger, but if Ed was right and the bond was trying to bring them to a mid-point, then Ed should look as if he were around twenty-five.

Except that when had Ed ever really looked his age? By eighteen the last of any youthful puppy-fat had melted away to reveal those distinctive features, and Ed had _never_ been gangly. Even as a child he had been short and stocky, and unlike other people he seemed to have retained his proportions as he grew. Now he came up to Roy’s nose, and those sturdy muscles were as hard and defined as ever: powerful with youth.

Roy swallowed, rinsing the remnants of foam from his face as he tried not to think of that body pressed against his side, all firm, long lines and simmering strength. He was not even sure if Ed was aware that they had been nestled so close to one another, wrapped up like kittens in the bond’s grasp. Surely if Ed had known, he would have said something scathing about it. He was far too defensive of his personal space to let such things slide, and it was impossible to believe he had known and accepted Roy’s embrace.

Yet when he had stood up from the sofa there had been something in his expression, something as hot as it was confused... Roy shook his head forcefully, trying to dispel the conclusion that was trying to take root in his mind.

No matter what the evidence may suggest, Ed did not feel any regard for Roy. It was just not possible.

Striding into the bedroom, Roy gritted his teeth against the growing itchy heat that spread over his skin. Ed had said that there would be a time when people interrupting the soul bond would no longer be an issue, and Roy had to admit he was not sure how much longer he could bear the discomfort.

When Ed was in his presence, the bond felt good – addictive, even – but when they were separated it was a constant plague of sensation, like a plucked harp-string resonating on one irritating note. Now it was steadily increasing in volume, and Roy tried to distance himself from it as he grabbed a clean uniform and set about getting dressed: trousers, shirt, jacket, gloves... all of it sheathed his body with the same ease as always. By the time he was done it was hard to imagine that a bare twenty minutes ago he had been asleep on the sofa with Ed in his arms.

Pulling open the door to his suite, he almost walked straight into Hawkeye, who took a polite step backwards and regarded him with a grudgingly raised eyebrow. Clearly she had not believed his promise, and now she waited for him to lock his door before falling in at his side. ‘Deputy Inspector Anders has arrived to give you a report on the findings of the civilian police force,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘Though judging from her expression, I doubt she’ll be telling you about a successful capture.’

‘What about Falman?’ Roy asked, lengthening his stride and glancing at Hawkeye to make sure she was keeping up. ‘He said Ed had suggested a suspect and he was going to look into it further. Has he had any luck?’

‘Not enough time.’ Hawkeye lifted her chin. ‘Security is our highest priority, sir, and watching you, Edward and Alphonse means we are already stretched thin.’ She matched his pace as they turned the corner towards the office, and Roy struggled to hide a smile as he saw Ed waiting for them by the door. Even better, he had something that looked like breakfast in his hands.

‘Eat that,’ he ordered unceremoniously as Roy approached, holding out something that smelled mostly of bacon. ‘Al’s already headed for the library, so I’ll go and catch him up.’

‘Not without an escort,’ Hawkeye replied, not even batting an eyelid when Ed glared at her. ‘Havoc and two police officers are with Alphonse to keep him safe, and I can’t spare anyone to accompany you for another ten minutes.’

Ed rolled his eyes, waving one gloved hand in irritation. ‘It’s only two blocks away. If I run, I can catch ‘em halfway there.’

‘No.’ Hawkeye’s voice was like the clang of steel, hard and unforgiving. ‘Even if it were only your life in danger I wouldn’t risk it, but if someone lashes out at you, then you won’t be the only one who is hurt.’ She shook her head in a quick motion that belied her stress. ‘I’m sorry, Edward. A few minutes, that’s all I’m asking for.’

Roy could easily see Ed’s irritation. He could almost feel it himself, prickling along the bond, but Hawkeye made a good point. Even Ed could see that. At last, that blonde head nodded in agreement, the best answer they were going to get, and Roy bit into the bacon sandwich as he pushed his way into the bustling office.

Phones were ringing and paperwork littered every surface. Deputy Inspector Anders sat in a chair, her body slumped as if it were the first chance she had found to rest in the past few days. When she saw Roy, she moved to stand, and Roy swallowed his mouthful of breakfast hastily and motioned her back into her seat. ‘No need for that, Deputy Inspector. Lieutenant Hawkeye said you had something to report?’

Anders looked around at Roy’s men, all busy working, but no doubt listening in. ‘I trust my command, Deputy Inspector Anders, and there’s less chance of the outer office being bugged: a common practice in the military.’

The woman pursed her lips for a moment as if berating herself for not thinking it through. ‘Of course, Brigadier-General. I’m afraid we’ve made limited progress. Max’s body has been found buried in an unmarked grave at the edge of the cemetery.’ She sighed, rubbing her fingers across her forehead before straightening her shoulders and giving Roy a long, hard look. ‘The soil was newly disturbed, and there was no sign of decomposition. We think he was kept in an icehouse or morgue and only buried late last night.

‘The fuckers are still here, then.’ Ed’s eyes narrowed, and his lips formed a grim, hard line. ‘I thought they’d have run, but if they’re digging graves then they can’t have gone far.’

‘Exactly.’ Anders got to her feet, her hands clasped behind her back as she shifted her weight, looking like a woman desperate to pace. ‘We’re trying to find out more about the identity you gave us, but the harder we look, the more baffling the situation. It seems like the man just disappeared one day. I think finding out more about Tomas Danner could be the key to unravelling the situation, but so far we’ve come up empty-handed.’

‘Keep trying,’ Roy ordered. ‘Please, Deputy Inspector. We’re finding ourselves stretched, as I’m sure you are too. If we concentrate on attacking this problem from separate angles, then we may have more luck. Ed, take Breda and get to the library. See if you can find out anything else about the how and why of the priest’s work.’ He bit his lip, eyeing the mess of the office and knowing he would have no choice but to stay here and try to keep on top of his unstoppable workload. ‘Hawkeye – ’

The bang of the door interrupted him, punctuating the noise in the busy office. Havoc sagged on the threshold, pale and shaking, and Roy’s stomach fell like a stone as he saw the blood matting the lieutenant’s hair and creating rusty rivulets down his cheek. He looked bleary and sick, white-knuckled fingers grasping the door-frame for support as he finally managed to choke out some words.

‘They got Al.’

Adrenaline hit Roy like a battering ram, and he lunged out, grabbing Ed’s shoulder before he could run blind into more shit than even he could handle. ‘Two minutes,’ Roy hissed desperately. ‘Just wait two minutes, Ed. You’re not going anywhere alone.’ He looked over at Havoc, relieved to see that Falman and Fuery had both leapt to the lieutenant’s aid. ‘Who did this, Havoc? Who took Al?’

Blue eyes flicked upwards, finding their focus as they settled on Anders, and his lips twisted into a snarl. ‘It was the damn police.’


	11. Chapter 11

'What? The police?'

Anders' exclamation of disbelief fell on deaf ears as Ed struggled to breathe. Clamouring, icy panic thrashed in his chest. Every muscle strained to run. It did not matter that he had no idea where Al had been taken; anything was better than standing here listening to people talk as if words meant something.

Yet he could not move, not with Mustang's hand like a leaden grip on his flesh shoulder, almost hard enough to bruise. The bond was as heavy as stone around his wrist, anchoring him in place, and his lips quivered in a snarl that was more about fear than anger.

The bastards had Al, and Ed knew what they would be doing to him. Worse, the priest would probably know that time was of the essence. They would not waste much pratting about with ceremony. No way was his little brother going to end up bound to some idiot the way Ed was to Mustang, but he could no more dash out of the door and put a stop to it than he could pause his own heart. Roy wanted him to stay, so both the man and the bond made sure that he could not move more than a couple of inches.

'I don't give a fuck who did it,' Ed snapped, ignoring Anders' baffled stammer as he twisted his wrist uselessly against the invisible restraint dragging at his arm. 'I want to know where they took my brother!'

'They got us on Willow Street,' Havoc said, wincing as Falman pressed a compress against his head. 'Sorry, Boss. I was knocked out. I didn't see which way they went.'

Whipping around, Ed whacked Roy's hand away. 'Get off of me,' he spat, not caring that Mustang stepped back in shock at the sharp, bitter aggression that lashed back and forth along the bond. It was unintentional and not even aimed at Mustang, but it was strong enough to smash apart the restraining burden of Roy's will. The bond's weight vanished, and Ed spun around, bolting for the door before anyone had a chance to stop him.

Dimly, he could hear Roy shouting harsh, rough-voiced orders, but he was too busy concentrating on shoving his way through the first wave of the morning rush to notice what was going on behind him. Adrenaline honed his mind into a blade of focus, raised and ready to spear through anyone who got in his way. A tiny part of him whispered that the logical thing to do would be to stop and think, but reason had never applied when Al was in trouble. Action was the only option, and the best place to start was where the attack had happened. Al was too intelligent to go down without a fight. Even if taken by surprise, he would have done his best to leave behind some kind of clue.

All Ed had to do was find it.

He pushed his way out of the doors and leapt down the short flight of steps, barely stumbling as he hit the parade ground. The cool, packed earth was hard beneath his boots, and he skidded across the perimeter and onto the street. There were people everywhere, and Ed paused for one second, enough to drag in a deep breath and choose his direction before breaking into a sprint once more.

The hard thud of his pulse thrummed in his ears, and he clenched his teeth as his muscles ached and a stitch threatened beneath his ribs. Being in good physical condition was necessary, not just for his job – when running for his life was practically normal – but for his automail. Now, though, it felt like his flesh was betraying him, and he grimaced as he wondered if it had something to do with the bond. If it turned out that Mustang and his desk-job were holding Ed back, he would kill the bastard.

Yet that did not seem right. Mustang might spend a lot of time signing paperwork, but he was in good shape, physically speaking, fast and strong. The man had by no means let himself go, and Ed grunted as he pushed himself onwards. Of course, there was still that ageing thing. If the bond had messed about with that, then there was no way his body would have escaped the consequences. Clearly being hit by seven years in a matter of days had taken its toll, and Ed swore as he skidded clumsily around the street corner, almost colliding with a woman and her kids before dodging past them.

Every thudding step took him closer to Willow Street, and finally, Ed stumbled to a halt, his chest heaving as he searched frantically for anything that could help him. Perhaps when Havoc and Al had come through here, it had been deserted, but now the first few people were starting to throng the shop-lined road, and Ed swore as he realised that time was running out. Any hints Al might have left for him would soon be trampled away beneath the busy feet of Central's people.

He did not bother to get his breath back as he strode along the pavement, wishing he had taken a few moments to ask Havoc to be more specific. Willow Street cut diagonally across a block – a great shortcut to the library, but not exactly a small area to search. Instinct took Ed closer to the mid-point, and after an agonising five minutes of staring desperately at the ground, he was rewarded.

A dense smear of blood still lay on the stones with a few small splatters picking their way up one of the shop walls. It was probably Havoc's, but at least that meant he had found the right place. The gutters of the street were filled with leaves and silt, but the flash of white caught Ed's eye. He almost disregarded it as unimportant, but a closer look made his heart thump hard beneath his ribs: one of Al's gloves, ripped across the palm. There was blood on the knuckles, and Ed smiled despite himself. Al had put up a fight. At least one of the fuckers who took him was bleeding.

Noise at the end of the street made him glance over his shoulder to see Anders blocking off the end of the road, a megaphone in her hand and her tinny voice giving orders. 'We request that, for your own safety, all civilians evacuate Willow Street immediately. Only military and police personnel will be allowed beyond the barricade until further notice. Thank you for your cooperation.'

She sounded out of breath, and Ed could just make out that her hair was coming untied from its bun. Mustang stood at her side, issuing orders to a group of soldiers, including Hawkeye, Breda and Fuery. They were all flushed and sweating, and Ed realised they must have been a few minutes behind him all along.

With a shake of his head, he looked back at the ground, unsure if he was grateful for the backup or annoyed at the interference. He was not stupid enough to think that Mustang would let him do things his way, and Ed clenched his teeth as he heard the approach of concise, angry boot steps. There was no point in looking up; he knew it was Roy. He could feel it in the bond as surely as if the man was breathing down his neck, and Ed squared his shoulders as the buzzing sensation of interference from other souls faded away.

'If you ever do that again,' Roy warned, 'I will order Hawkeye to shoot you in the leg. Do you have any idea how dangerous it was to run out on your own? Didn't you think for one moment that it could be a trap?' He sighed, and Ed watched as Roy rubbed a hand across his brow, a frown clouding his eyes and his lips pressed together in disapproval. It was strange to see so much emotion on that impassive face, and Ed realised with a jolt of shock that Roy's hands were trembling.

'You're here now, aren't you?' he demanded, folding his arms across his chest and trying not to show how unsettled he was by Roy's clear fear and anger. 'We don't have time to fuck about. The priest's smart enough to learn from his mistakes, and he'll bind Al quickly if he can. I need to find him before the bastard gets the chance.'

'Not on your own, you don't,' Roy replied, stepping forward so that he blocked Ed's way. 'You can’t just run off anymore, Ed, not with me tied to you like a dog on a leash.' He cuffed a hand through his hair, and Ed wondered exactly what was feeding back along the bond to Roy. How much of what he was feeling was a mirror of Ed's own anxiety and frightened rage? 'We'll work together. That's an order.'

For a moment they glared at each other, Ed defiant and Roy unflinching. In the end, it was only time slipping through his fingers like sand that made Ed mutter, 'Whatever, Mustang. Al hit whoever grabbed him hard enough to make 'em bleed. They probably drugged him after that, because he'd have tried to transmute if he could.'

'Spread out,' Roy called out, lifting his voice so that all his men could hear. 'Look for a blood trail, footprints, anything that could tell us where they went.' Those blue eyes flicked back to where Anders stood. Hughes had arrived in a black car, and he was standing grim-faced at her side, no doubt asking her questions about her men.

'We can't trust the police,' Roy said at last. 'We're assuming these two were working for the priest, but for all we know they have their own motive for taking Alphonse. Have you ruffled any feathers lately?'

Ed managed a choked off snort of disbelief, looking up from where he was inspecting the paving. 'You want a list?' He sighed, shaking his head before a ghostly suspicion drifted across his mind. 'There's only that idiot Warner. Al made some insinuations yesterday when the shit wouldn't leave me alone – suggested Warner could be behind all this – not that he's got the brains for it.'

'Perhaps it would be a good idea to find him anyway.' Roy scanned the few men Anders had bought with her. 'I'll tell Hughes. You keep hunting for your brother. If you find anything, tell me. Don't just rush off on your own, Fullmetal. Understand?'

Ed rolled his eyes, flipping his middle finger after Roy's receding back before turning his gaze back to the ground. It was painful to pace the street in slow, steady steps. All he wanted to do was race and rush, fight and punch until Al was safe back at his side, and every passing second was like another needle stabbing at his skin. His teeth kept grinding together in frustration, and his hands clenched into spasmodic fists as the wind whipped down between the shops and lifted his hair back from his face.

He should be able to sense Al by now. All the shit they had been through together, all they'd survived, shouldn't they be able to just know where each other were? Yet when he tried to let his instincts come to the fore, all he could feel was Roy filling his horizon. It seemed like the man was standing right at his shoulder, but when Ed whirled around to snap at him, he was up by the police cordon scowling at Anders.

'Fuck,' Ed hissed, digging his fingers into his hair and closing his eyes, trying to grab onto some control when all he felt like doing was tearing the world apart until he found Al again. 'Come on, concentrate!'

'Sir?' Fuery's voice was too quiet to be meant for Roy, and Ed blinked his eyes open to see the dark-haired man hunkered down on the pavement. Without hesitation, Ed hurried over, looking over Fuery's shoulder at the grey stone. It was pale and dry, the perfect canvas, and one of the many stains on its surface was a wet red, rapidly turning to rust as it dried. 'There's another mark a little up ahead. It's not much, a nosebleed or something, but it's fresh.'

'There's more back here, too,' Breda called out, gesturing back towards the place where Ed had found Al's glove. 'I'd say there's a strong chance it was either left by Alphonse or one of his attackers.'

Ed opened his mouth, wondering how he could have missed what was right in front of him, but a streak of silver across his vision made him pause. It was quickly followed by another, and he gaped in horror as fat drops of rain began to smatter against the pavement. Grey clouds sulked overhead, and he whipped around to stare along the street where the trail that could lead him to Al was probably already washing away.

'Fuery, tell Mustang what we found. Breda, come with me. Hurry! We don't have time to wait for them to catch up.'

They did not argue – probably because both men knew Ed would not listen – and quickly did as they were told. Fuery raced back up the road while Breda lurched along at Ed's side, red-faced in moments but still managing to keep up. He pointed out dots of blood every few steps with a simple stab of his finger, and it did not take long for Ed to pick out a pattern. Whoever was bleeding was dripping steadily, and though the rain was starting to smudge their trail, there was still enough to keep them on track as they hurried out of Willow Street and bore left, rushing along as the ground turned glassy with the wet.

'Shit,' Ed whispered as the rain intensified, panic clawing its way up his throat and making his fingertips itch. The road was deserted, and he glanced over at Breda before clenching his teeth. 'Stop there a minute. I don't want to set you on fire by accident.'

'What are you – ?'

The sharp report of Ed's clap cut off the older man's question. Fire leapt forth, exploding outwards with voracious hunger. For a moment it pulled against Ed's control, eager to be wild and free as the raindrops exploded in hissing steam, but the gases in the air soon flowed into alignment. Concentrating with all his might, Ed sent a wide swathe of flame ahead, making it burn a few inches above the ground. Instantly the water on the pavement began to evaporate.

Getting the temperature right was the hard part. Too hot, and it would melt the tarmac and their trail along with it. Too cold and the rain would put it out, but Ed's alchemy reacted instinctively, warm orange rather than cold blue as he sent the tongues of fire lapping along the street as quickly as if they raced over gasoline. The pavement became arid, and the bloody smears they were looking for had darkened to shady, obvious smudges of ash. 'Quick!' Ed ordered, extinguishing the flame and staggering forward once more. 'This way!'

'You always been able to do that?' Breda panted, following Ed around another twist in the road. 'Thought fire was the general's thing?'

Ed did not waste any time or breath in replying. He had tried fire alchemy in the past; it had not been one of his best moments. Now the bond made it as easy as slipping into a bath, second nature and perfectly controlled; he had not even singed his gloves. Yet there was no time to celebrate. The rain was a persistent enemy, and the drumming water that drenched him to the skin and stuck his hair to his cheeks was already resaturating the pavement, no longer a shower but a torrential downpour.

As if to punctuate his dread, the wind whipped along the road, flinging more water into his face, and he cuffed it aside with a soggy glove before squinting ahead, trying to make out anything in the leaden scene. Wavering trees and dappled puddles met his gaze. Water ran in torrents down the gutters and dripped from the roofs of nearby buildings, and a car skimmed past up ahead, its tyres humming on the wet road.

There was no sign of Al, or the blood trail that had led them this far.

'Sorry,' Breda panted, bending over and putting his hands on his knees as Ed slowed to a halt. 'There'll be another way to find him. For all we know they were leading us around in circles any way.'

Ed shook his head, trying to speak around the shallow pant of air in his lungs. 'If it's the priest behind it then they'll be in a hurry. They were heading straight to wherever he's hiding.' He shoved his hair out of his face, not caring that his ponytail was sending a steady trickle of water down his back. They’re here somewhere.’

'Come on.’ Breda tugged gently on Ed’s arm. ‘You can’t go knocking on doors and hope they answer. We need to get back to the general. If pounding the streets doesn't work, then doing our research will.' The man's round face was set in firm, confident lines. 'Trust us, Ed. We'll know where he is by the end of the day.'

Denial shot along Ed's nerves in incandescent sparks, and an adamant refusal hovered on the tip of his tongue only to be bitten back at the last second. He did not want to turn his back on the pursuit, but even as his thoughts snarled their fury, he knew there was no other choice. There was nothing else to work with and no other clues to chase. All he could do was hope that Breda was right, and that their rescue would not be too late to save Al’s soul from the priest’s clutches.

Behind him, a car skidded to a halt, and he shot a wary, distrustful glance over his shoulder to see Roy and Hawkeye scramble out. Both of them were relatively dry, at least compared to Ed and Breda, but there was no mistaking the resigned annoyance on Roy's face, as thick and dark as any storm cloud.

'I told you not to leave on your own,’ he said in a clipped voice. ‘If they could take Al away from Havoc, they can take you away from Breda.'

Ed gestured furiously to the rain splashing down around them, swatting at one of the drops as if it were a fly. 'What do you expect me to do? Stand around and do nothing while the only clues we've got are washed away?'

'I expect you to wait,' Roy replied, his voice softening as he rubbed rainwater from his forehead and glanced back the way they had come. 'We can't fight this storm, Ed. If it stayed dry we could have used dogs to track your brother, but that's not possible. They won't smell anything in all this.’ He jerked his head towards the car, holding his hand out in a beckoning motion. 'Come on. We need to get back to the office. We might not have a physical trail, but there are plenty of leads to follow if we know where to look.'

Ed stared back along the empty, rain-drenched street, desperate for some kind of sign – anything that meant he had a reason to stay out here and on the hunt – but there was nothing. His stomach fizzed with acid and his breathing seemed to be coming from the wrong place, too shallow and high in his throat as the panic tried to clutch at him again. It almost won, but Roy's hand on his shoulder was like a ray of sunshine, warm and powerful in its own right, and Ed felt the heat drive back the jittery waves of fear. The bond tightened at his wrist, a feather-light caress rather than a ball and chain, and he huffed out a breath before turning towards the car.

'We'll find him,' Roy said firmly. 'I know you don't believe me, but Fuery's already headed back to Headquarters and got Falman on the case. Havoc, too, unless his head's too bad. They've been doing this kind of thing for years, and if anyone can ferret out the priest's latest hiding place, it's them.'

Ed managed a jerky nod, not trusting his voice as he slid into the back seat. The car was stuffy and damp, the windows already turning white with steam as Hawkeye steered the car expertly back towards headquarters. No one spoke, though the air was thick with questions and fears. Breda was twisting his fingers together, flexing his knuckles as if he was bracing himself for some kind of fight, and Hawkeye was tapping the steering wheel impatiently. Only Mustang was ice-statue still, his brow pinched and his gaze locked straight ahead. Ed doubted he was seeing the road at all, but whatever was going on in Roy's head was a mystery to him.

Rubbing a hand across the nape of his neck, Ed turned to look out of the window, wiping away vapour as he saw the perimeter approach. That short, sharp run seemed like so much more than a few minutes, but now the truth slammed home as hard as any punch: Al had been taken within a quarter of a mile of headquarters, and Ed had been helpless to stop it.

Bowing his head, Ed felt the car pull up to a stop. His fingers were clumsy on the seatbelt and the door handle as he fumbled to get out. The rain drummed down on him, droplets shattering on his skin as he dragged himself towards headquarters. Patience seemed like an impossible demand, but even if he hated it, he knew Roy was right. They had to stop and think this through; there had to be some kind of strategy. Tearing around on a wild-goose chase was more likely to waste time than result in Al’s rescue.

His boots squelched sadly as he made his way up the steps and towards the office. Roy and Hawkeye were talking quietly just behind him, but their words failed to break through the thick smog of Ed’s guilty concern. Shivers racked up and down his body, hard enough to almost bend him double before they abruptly disappeared. Instead the bond glowed brighter, the flicker of light heading towards Ed and seeping into his wrist.

It seemed the stupid thing was trying to balance everything, from emotion to temperature, and Ed looked over his shoulder to see Roy huddle deeper in his jacket, his normally blank face pinched with hard, tight worry. Mustang probably did not even realise it was happening, but Ed knew what he was seeing. Normally, he would have fought Mustang with everything he had to stay out on the street, rain or not, looking for Al. Logic would not have come into it. The bond had changed all that. Ed was not just getting Roy’s warmth and power; he suspected the bond was also handing over some of that legendary Mustang control.

Clenching his jaw, Ed shoved his way into the office, hesitating as he saw Anders and Warner sitting uncomfortably in the centre of the room. Behind him Mustang, Hawkeye and Breda entered the room, and Roy's men got to work immediately, collecting together reports and chasing up any possible lead about Al's whereabouts. They moved around the police like water around stones, but Ed could sense the suspicion and tension in the air like a knife-edge, bitterly sharp.

Hughes leaned back on a desk nearby, his loose-limbed body outwardly at ease as he spoke. 'You had no idea that any of your men were involved?'

'I was shocked enough about Max,' Anders replied in a heavy voice. 'Jenson and Lewis were trustworthy. The chief gave them to me himself. He had faith in their loyalty and abilities.' She swept slender fingertips across her brow, clearly shaken and struggling to hold on to her professional composure. 'That was why I chose them to look after the major's brother. They were good men who never made assumptions until all the evidence was in.'

The look she shot at Warner was crippling, and Ed saw the man wilt and shuffle his shoulders. He looked as if he had been having a bad morning, and he kept his eyes fixed on the floor as he added, 'The deputy inspector and I may not always see eye-to-eye, but she is an adequate judge of character. Jenson and Lewis were good officers.’ A trace of something harder entered Warner’s voice, and he looked up at Ed with cold, narrowed eyes. ‘It's hard to believe their loyalties lie elsewhere.'

‘And yet they do,’ Hughes said, pushing himself away from the desk and stepping to one side, effectively cutting Ed off from Warner’s glare. ‘The major’s brother is missing, and one of the general’s men is being treated for a head injury. Suspicions have already been voiced within the military that this abduction is the work of the police, rather than the “cut-throat killer”.’

'No, absolutely not! Why would we do such a thing?' Anders voice was choked with horror, and Ed had to admit he was impressed. If she was lying then she was the best actor he had ever seen.

'You tell me,’ Hughes replied. ‘Your men have been making life difficult for Major Elric since this began. For all we know, they decided to take justice into their own hands and take his brother. Some have been more vocal about their suspicions than others, but it has been made clear that not all your force are interested in uncovering the truth.'

'Perhaps it was those who blamed Major Elric who were really the guilty ones?' Mustang added softly. 'There appears to be a more deep-rooted problem within the police than you first realised, Deputy Inspector. Your men have been compromised, and in all likelihood they have handed the priest another victim.’ Roy looked down at his hands, adjusting his gloves with that light touch that Ed had seen him use many times before. It was not overtly threatening, but it was a reminder that he was not just another soldier.

Anders fell silent, her cheeks pale as she appeared to consider her options. At last, her lips parted, and this time her voice was stronger. ‘Perhaps I can no longer speak for my men,’ she said, getting to her feet and folding her arms, ‘but I can vouch for myself. I will do everything in my power to help you find and rescue Alphonse Elric.’ She looked haggard and thin, almost ill, but unwavering determination burned in her eyes. ‘I realise trust must be impossible, but I agree to be kept under full surveillance if it means I may assist you.’

Hughes turned towards Warner and raised an eyebrow. ‘What about you? Do you agree to the same terms?’

Ed watched the indecision flicker over the man’s face. Pallid skin flushed with annoyance, and those shrewd eyes narrowed as if Warner were trying to be cunning. However, he was an amateur in comparison to Hughes, and as the seconds ticked past, something like surrender settled on Warner’s features. ‘If it is the only alternative to being side-lined from the investigation all together, then yes,’ he replied.

‘There are others who would do the same,’ Anders added firmly. ‘I’m sure of it. The military does not have to take on the burden of this case alone.’

Hughes opened his mouth, but it was Mustang who got there first, his quiet voice full of authority. ‘From this moment on, the investigation is under our full jurisdiction. We won’t deny we need your assistance. Anything you can bring to us about Tomas Danner would be welcomed.’

The deputy inspector nodded her head, keeping any arguments to herself as she turned towards the door. ‘I’ll return to the station and collect what we have. I’ll also muster a squad of men who agree to the military’s surveillance. There will be more than enough to assist you. Not all of us have turned away from our oath to justice.’

'You hope,' Ed muttered, watching Anders and Warner leave. He did not care what Mustang and Hughes said, or what promises Anders made, he would not trust the police again. Somehow, Danner had got his claws into the force, and there was no way to tell how far the rot had spread.

A thought flickered across his mind, as bright as a shoal of fish, and Ed’s breath caught in his chest as a thread of an idea began to weave itself into a tapestry. Al and Havoc had trusted the cops with them – had noticed no cause for concern or anything that might force the kidnappers’ hands – but the abductors had still chosen Willow Street to launch their attack. There were quieter, more secluded places on the short walk to the library, so why take that extra risk?

Unless the priest's hideout was nearby.

Electricity shot along his nerves as he lurched towards Falman’s desk, scrabbling in one of the drawers. A map; that's what he needed. If he could see the city, then maybe he could find his way through the maze of his own circling fears towards the truth.

Cops were still cops, even when they had turned to the wrong side of the law. They would know that – even in uniform – two men carrying an unconscious body through Central would arouse suspicion. They had time to organise transportation if they needed it, but there had been no tyre marks or oil drops to indicate an idling vehicle. Wherever they had taken Al, it probably was not far from where they had hit Havoc. Close enough for them to sling Al over their shoulders and carry him.

Ed’s questing fingers brushed against a folded piece of paper, and he tugged it free before spreading it out on Falman’s desk. The army believed in knowing their territory, and every street and alley was etched in clear, broad lines. Military buildings were shaded blue, giving the appearance of a vast sky pocked by the white clouds of civilian areas.

He could feel Mustang’s eyes on him, and Ed tried to ignore the way his taut nerves resonated to the older man’s presence as he approached. A handful of steps between them dwindled to nothing, and the soft, warm hum of the bond strengthened a hundred fold, melting some of the ice in Ed’s veins and bringing clarity to his fear-fogged mind as he drew in a steadying breath,

‘We all assumed the priest and his disciples had run for it, but they would only do that if they had given up,’ he said, looking up to meet Roy’s eyes. ‘Danner doesn’t look like the kind of man who’s used to not getting his way. Me being bound to you was a set-back, but he stayed nearby waiting for a chance to grab Al.’

‘Even knowing he’s in the city doesn’t give us much to work with. It would take weeks for us to search Central.’ Roy braced his palm against the desk, frowning down at the map.

‘I can lend you some men from intelligence,’ Hughes said, standing opposite to scowl at the chart from a different angle. ‘It won’t speed things up much, but it could help a little.’

Roy’s shoulders slumped, and Ed could see every emotion that flickered across his face: uncertainty, fear and helplessness -- everything that hid in Ed like mould blemished Mustang’s expression clear for anyone to see. ‘I can’t even ask for extra men, not without raising suspicion. One missing civilian means nothing to the military.’

‘Maybe you won’t have to.’ Ed reached out, snatching a pencil as he stared at the narrow, straight line of Willow Street on the map. ‘The police didn’t have a car. Wherever they took Al, they carried him there, and my brother weighs at least 140 pounds. That, and it’s broad fuckin’ daylight. They wouldn’t risk being seen. They can’t have gone far.’

Hastily, he sketched out the route of the trail he and Breda had followed, the nib of the pencil moving feverishly as his gaze flickered back and forth across the map. Outside, the rain continued to drum on the windowpane, lashing out at the world with malevolent fury, but Ed barely heard it as he continued to work.

‘That’s where you lost the trail?’ Hughes asked, touching the termination of Ed’s line with his fingertip before nodding his head. At his side, Falman was already doing hasty calculations. ‘I saw Lewis and Jenson this morning. They were average build at best, and over forty. An unconscious body is dead weight and awkward. I’d say you’re looking for a building within a couple of hundred paces of that point.’

‘Make it five hundred,’ Falman cut in, frowning down at his frantic figures before grasping a pen and drawing a strong, definitive circle on the map. ‘We’re building this on circumstantial evidence and supposition. For all we know they may have found transportation further along the street, or received alternative assistance from their colleagues.’ He bowed his head, looking over the map once more with astute eyes. ‘However, there’s a good chance that the priest and his disciples are in one of these buildings.’

His fingers brushed over the scores of squares encapsulated in the circle’s line, and Ed’s stomach turned hard and cold. Even narrowing it down that much left them more city to search than they had time available, and Falman was right, in his logical way. There was no guarantee that their assumptions were accurate, but what choice did they have? His skin itched with the need to be out there scanning the streets, and at least this was a starting point. Inactivity was the worst kind of imprisonment, grating along every nerve, and Ed clenched his teeth as he tried to remind himself that this was the best way to search: precision could mean the difference between getting Al out and being too late to do any good, but it was testing the minuscule amounts of patience he had left.

‘We need to narrow it down further,’ Roy murmured, looking up as the office door opened. Ed followed his gaze as Havoc edged inside. The lieutenant looked pale, and there was a stark white bandage around his head, but his jaw was firm and determined. ‘Shouldn’t you still be in hospital?’

‘Nothing’s broken,’ Havoc replied, stopping at the desk and looking down at the map. ‘I can’t lie around and do nothing, anyway. I got to do something to help. Are you picking out a search area?’

‘Trying to,’ Ed replied, not bothering with any niceties. ‘We’re guessing they didn’t have a car and had to carry him, and I followed a blood trail to here. Did they say anything? Something that might tell us where they were taking him?’

Havoc shook his head, wincing as if he regretted the motion. ‘Nothing. I had no idea they were planning anything until they hit me over the head, and even then I didn’t realise what had happened until I came to. I would have tried to follow them, but I couldn’t even see straight. I’m sorry.’ He sounded wretched, and Ed clenched his teeth. He knew how seriously Roy’s men took their responsibilities, and that apology was probably as much for Mustang as for him.

‘It was not your fault,’ Roy said firmly. ‘For now, all that matters is finding Al and getting him back safe. Breda, Falman, Fuery, go to the police station and pick up Anders and her men. Hughes, any Intelligence staff you have to spare should go too. They can watch the police and search for Al at the same time.’ Roy sighed, his eyes back on the map as he added, ‘Go door-to-door. See if anyone’s seen anything and use your eyes. The rest of us will stay here and see if we can pinpoint anything else.’

‘Mustang,’ Ed growled, his voice resonating with a sharp, edgy warning, ‘I can’t stay here looking at fucking paperwork. If they go looking then so can I!’

‘And how well do you think everyone’s going to be looking for your brother when they are chasing you around and trying to keep you safe?’ Roy’s words were lance-like, and Ed’s hands clenched on the desk as a denial rumbled in his throat. ‘Save it, Ed. We all want to get Al back safe, but putting you out on the street is too dangerous. God knows what the priest would do to you if he got his hands on you, but I doubt it would end well for either of us.’

It was the bargaining chip to end any argument, and Roy knew it as well as Ed. If it was only his safety --his life -- that he put at risk, then Ed would charge out of headquarters regardless of orders, but nothing was that easy any more. The bond made sure of that. If he was hurt, then Mustang would probably share his pain. If he was killed, then Roy’s life would probably end in the same moment. Survival was something Ed had always been happy to gamble for the sake of his brother, but this time it was not just his existence on the line. Any kind of rescue mission would have to be done with Roy at his side.

He did not answer, but he let his sullen defeat reflect itself in his stance, shoulders hunched and arms folded as he glared at the map, hating the city for hiding his brother away in its shadows. He wanted to feel the pound of the pavement beneath his feet – wanted to know he was doing something – and instead he was trapped in here, locked up like something too precious to put at risk.

Around him, the office was a hive of activity, but Ed turned away from it, frowning at the rain trickling its way down the window as he let his mind race and rush along a dozen different trains of thought at once. Every puzzle was like a cage, and somewhere, each one had a key that would undo the lock and allow the bars to fall away. Somewhere, there was a clue, a piece of information that would take away all the uncertainty and allow Ed to jump into action: sure of his target. If he was not allowed out into Central to find it, then he was damn well going to tear the office apart in his search.

He started on one of the stacks of files on Hawkeye’s desk, thumbing through reports as he looked for information. Anything irrelevant was immediately discarded, and he ignored the weight of the lieutenant's disapproving stare as he made a mess of the neat piles on her desk, desperately trying to find a starting point.

It was not that there was too little information, but that there was too much of it. The police had written down every little suspicion and pointless hunch, allowing the concrete facts to become lost in the midst of their speculation. The military was not much better, and the little they did have available on the priest, Danner, was more about their evaluation of him than the man himself.

Time bled away from them, swallowed up in the murmured conversation of Roy and his men and the smack of the rain on the parade ground outside. With every hour that slipped away, the tension in Ed's muscles wound itself tighter, until he could barely read for the shake of anxious energy through his body. Eating was impossible with a leaden stomach, and his thoughts were scattered, turned ghostly by his fear.

Gloomy noon came and went, and Ed propped his elbows on his desk and his head in his hands as he struggled to get his brain to focus and _think_. Al needed him, and even at the worst moments of his life, he had never let his brother down. He was not about to allow some fucked up priest to take Al away. It had been bad enough when it was Roy lying in the middle of that array, but the thought of Al spread-eagled and defenceless made Ed's blood freeze in his veins, no warmer than that of a corpse.

Inspiration could take many forms; Ed knew that. More often it was a question rather than an answer, and just like that the train of his thought was on the right track, racing towards an inevitable answer. He straightened up at the desk, his eyes narrowed and unfocussed as he stared inwards. Nothing the priest did was spontaneous. He was well-equipped and prepared to handle every facet of his plan: church-like buildings and ice-houses for corpses, cages for prisoners and wide, sweeping floors perfect for drawing an array – that kind of place was not easy to find, especially in the middle of the city.

Getting to his feet, he walked over to the map, nudging Roy gracelessly aside as he turned his eyes away from the search area and towards Edil Park. The house that Danner had occupied before was huge, but Ed could remember straight, wealth-lined corridors and empty bedrooms, family portraits and antique furniture. No way the priest owned all that, but who did?

‘Someone’s helping the fucker hide,’ Ed muttered, feeling the clanging silence descend on the room as everyone turned to look at him. ‘We never stopped to ask how some priest could afford to hide away in a manor house.’ He tapped the boundary line of the park, knowing that Roy and his men would follow his reasoning with ease. ‘Someone gave it to him. Who owns this place?’

‘And more to the point, do they own any of the buildings within our search area?’ Roy added, straightening up as Hawkeye turned to her desk, picking through the mess Ed had made before pulling out a bulky file and opening its pages. ‘Anything?’

‘The police handed this over to us yesterday because they were at a dead end,’ Hawkeye replied, her brown eyes moving back and forth as she scanned down the page. ‘I don’t think we have managed to do any better. The house by Edil Park is in trust. The last known owners were a family called Catticut. The legitimate line died out more than a century ago.’ Her lips pursed, and a deep crease marred her brow. ‘Rather than hand over their assets to the military, the family made use of several legal loopholes. According to this, it’s lying in wait for a descendent who can prove their family tree involves the Catticut family.’

Glancing around the room, Ed realised he was not the only one baffled by what Hawkeye was saying. Havoc's lips were parted in confusion, and Roy's face was locked in a disbelieving scowl. 'What you're saying is that, as far as the state is concerned, the house has no legal owner.'

'Not at the current time.' Hawkeye brought the file back to the desk and placed it down beside the map before turning the page. 'In my experience, people do not simply abandon massive houses such as that. They have a caretaker or legal guardian. Someone responsible for their maintenance. So far we have found no one listed, but perhaps they are one of Danner's followers.'

'It was in good condition,' Ed added. 'Working lights, clean floors... no way it had been abandoned. Did the Caticutts own property anywhere else in the city?'

'They had a thumb in every pie a hundred years ago,' Roy replied. 'Most of the higher ranking officers in the army know the name. Their only son, the heir, was killed in the battle of Saronson, just north of Dublith. The family threatened to take the military apart for losing their precious boy. The name stuck even after the family was gone.' He jerked his head towards the file. 'If that place is in trust, the other properties will be included. Look at the back for a list. Anything within the search area or a reasonable distance is the best place to start looking.'

Ed watched as Hawkeye moved quickly, the pages speaking in rustling whispers as she flicked through the dossier before brushing her finger down the long list at the back. Two-thirds of the way down, she paused, and a triumphant smile lit her face. '21 Elm Avenue. That property is only two streets away from where Alphonse was taken.'

As one, they bent over the map, and Ed's gaze raced along the line of Elm Avenue. It was painfully close to the point he had stopped his search, and nausea clenched its fist in his guts. The house Hawkeye had mentioned was not nearly as big as the one near Edil Park, but it was probably large enough to meet the priest's requirements.

'All the houses on that street have cellars,' Havoc pointed out. 'Big ones. I used to know someone who lived at the other end of the road. My whole apartment could fit in one of those things. That priest and his disciples could easily make themselves at home down there, and the neighbours probably wouldn't even know about it.'

'At least until they set off an array.' Ed pointed out, straightening up as the first notes of hope's melody began to sing through his veins. They were on the right track, and he knew it. All they had to do was get to that house and get Al out safely.

Meeting Mustang's eye, Ed lifted his chin, knowing Roy would get the message. There was no point in trying to pretend he was asking permission to start searching. Whether Roy said yes or not, he was going. His determination must have shown in his expression, because Roy let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping as he gave a single, reluctant nod of understanding before giving out orders.

'Hawkeye, you're with me and Ed. Havoc, get to Intelligence. Hughes will have equipped his men with long-range radios.' Roy's voice softened, gaining an extra layer of intensity. 'I can't risk you in a fight with a head injury, but if you're up to it, I need someone I know and trust to coordinate the search.'

Ed could not tell whether Havoc was disappointed at being excluded or relieved, but he knew the lieutenant would not argue. Besides, Roy had made the right choice. Havoc was as pale as the bandage around his head, and though he seemed alert, head injuries could turn in seconds. The last thing anyone needed was an asset like Havoc becoming an abrupt liability in the middle of a mission.

‘I’ll let Hughes and the others know you’re on your way, sir.’

Ed did not wait to hear Roy’s response as he strode towards the door, yanking it open and stepping out into the corridor. It felt as if his body had been on a tight rein of alien patience over the course of the morning and now, at last, that restraint was reaching breaking point. Every muscle twitched, eager to fight, and his nerves sang and sparked as his instincts came to the fore. Before, he had felt lost, victimised by the odds stacked against him finding his brother, but now he had a clear goal – a target – and every fibre of his being longed to run towards it.

'We'll take the car,' Roy ordered as he set the pace, marching through the command building. It was not the sprint that Ed would have liked, but he could tell from Roy's posture that it was a compromise between his dignity and his concern. Al had always made friends easily, and Roy and his men were no exception. They cared what became of him, and even as his hands clenched and relaxed spasmodically at his side, Ed knew that Roy had been right all along. As tempting as it was to frantically hunt through the city, finding a logical target was better than running around in a blind panic.

Hurrying down the steps, Ed climbed into the back seat of the car, trying to keep his breathing steady as his pulse drummed in his veins. The thought of the seatbelt, tight and harsh across his chest, was more than he could bear, and he left it off as the vehicle purred to life. Hawkeye wasted no time in leaving the command building, and the engine revved as she changed gear and pressed down on the accelerator. Beneath her hands, the car moved with fluid grace, splashing through puddles as the rain exploded in star bursts across the windscreen.

The short journey seemed to stretch on for an eternity, and Ed kept his gaze forward, staring sightlessly out into the water-washed world. Plans had never been his thing. Al was always moaning about Ed's habit of leaping into action first and dealing with the consequences later. Over the years, Ed had grown used to focussing on the final goal. Sometimes it was the only way to cope. If he had thought of all the effort and pain involved in getting his brother's body back, he would have fallen at the first hurdle, lost to the overwhelming burden of what had to be done. Yet he had not failed, and this time would be no different.

All he had to do was rescue his brother. There was no room in his head for anything else but that.


	12. Chapter 12

Roy watched Ed's reflection in the rear-view mirror, riveted by the lines of tension and shadows of guilt that clouded his distinctive features. With every passing minute, they grew darker, and Roy found himself wishing he had the words to say that would bring a smile to Ed's lips again.

Before the bond, Roy would have been forced to put his own interpretation on the story depicted in Ed's expression, but now there was no need. Every feeling sang its symphony along the bright golden line that tied them together, plunging Roy head first into the vortex of recrimination, guilt and fear that tore through Ed's body.

Ever since Havoc had stumbled into the office, Roy had been fighting to regain his cool, crisp demeanour, but every attempt met nothing but failure. In the end it had taken all of his concentration to cling to his logic and put forth a strategy, rather than tear off in a mindless pursuit of Al's abductors.

What surprised him the most, though, was that Ed cooperated with his requests. Fullmetal was hard enough to control in normal circumstances, but when Alphonse was in danger he was usually beyond the call of anything but the basic need to protect what was left of his family. The fact that Ed had heeded and obeyed Roy's orders was disconcerting, and he had been waiting for the inevitable moment when Ed's tissue-thin patience finally wore out.

Now he could see the break coming. Whatever had allowed Ed to remain relatively calm and within the realm of reason was beginning to ebb. His right leg was jiggling restlessly – muscles spurred on by the adrenaline that was coursing through his blood – and his jaw was working back and forth. Roy could not hear anything over the noise of the engine, but he suspected Ed was grinding his teeth, and the temptation to do the same was almost overwhelming.

Roy could feel the tension mounting in his flesh, dragged heartlessly to the fore by his connection with Ed. Normally such base body language was thoroughly within Roy's control, but not this time. His gloved fingers twisted around each other, and his bottom lip felt raw from chewing on it all morning. Ed's urgency was both palpable and contagious, and by the time Hawkeye pulled up at the barricade on Willow Street, Roy's muscles were wound spring-tight.

He and Ed leapt out of the car like dogs from a starting-gate, eager to be moving, and Roy sucked in a breath as he took in the scene. The road was slick beneath his boots and the air was still veiled by thick swathes of rain, but it was the people beyond the cordon of Willow Street who caught his attention.

Intelligence and the police were working together, and for the first time there seemed to be something like a true alliance. Officers and soldiers spoke like comrades, including each other in everything they found while Anders and Hughes regarded their men with something like satisfaction.

'Just got a message on the radio from Havoc,' Hughes called out, motioning for Roy to join him under the eaves. 'Says you think you know where they might have taken Al. What's the plan?'

Roy felt the snap of Ed's patience in the same instant he heard the quiet snarl in the younger man's throat. Clearly, Ed did not want to stop and organise any kind of logical attack, but Roy had the sense to know it was necessary. Even one minute to formulate a course of action could make the difference between success and failure, and they needed all the help they could get.

Gently, he tapped Ed's left arm, and it was like stepping into the sights of a predator. All of Ed's attention was on him, and there was nothing like patience in that gaze. 'We don't have time for this,' Ed hissed, and Roy could see the tendons in his neck twisted like rope, practically twitching with the urge to fight.

'One minute. That's all I need.' He let his tone become a plea, knowing that orders would only be met with resistance, and he watched the indecision slide over Ed's features. If Ed bolted, lunging into whatever ill-thought-out rescue mission he had in mind, then Roy would have no choice but to follow, and surely that could only end in disaster?

At last, Ed shifted his weight, moving along at Mustang's side until they stood with Hughes beneath the meagre shelter offered by the gutters. Water dripped from the roof, but it was better than standing in the downpour, and Roy folded his arms as he fought against the urge to pace.

'It's an educated guess more than anything,' he began, wasting no time with niceties. '21 Elm Street is listed in the same trust that protects the manor by Edil Park. There's a good chance the priest's been making use of the old Caticutt properties.' He shook his head, interrupting Hughes' question before it passed his best friend's lips. 'The details can wait. We need to get moving. If we're wrong then we're back to square one.'

'If we descend like a pack of wolves and the perpetrators are inside, we're likely to cause a panic,' Anders pointed out. 'That will not end well for the major's brother. Perhaps if we take a look at the property first, then we can get a better idea of what we're up against: security, terrain, that kind of thing?'

'We'll also be able to tell if we're on the right track, or if this hunch is nothing but a wild goose chase,' Hughes added, raising a radio to his lips and speaking into it. 'Check out Elm Street, number 21. See if there are any signs of life.'

'Mustang...' Ed growled, his voice carrying a steel-edged warning. He kept looking back along the street like an animal catching the scent. 'I can't fucking stand here all day. Let me go take a look. That's all I'll do. Just look.'

'That's a lie and you know it,' Roy replied, shaking his head as they listened to the patter of the rain and the static silence of Hughes' radio. 'Besides, a couple of soldiers won't cause too much concern if they're seen. Hughes' men know what they are doing. They –'

The crackle of the radio interrupted him, and a tinny voice came from the speaker. 'Nothing here, sir. Place is empty. Dust sheets on the furniture. No one's been here in a while.'

Roy's shoulders slumped, and he felt the fear that coiled around him clench all the tighter, making every breath a struggle. When Ed had mentioned this town house, Roy had been sure they had found their answer. Now disappointment was a dead weight, and they were back to the beginning, as clueless as ever.

Next to him, Ed shook his head fiercely. 'They're missing something. Al's there; he's got to be.'

Before Roy could utter a word, Ed was off, sprinting away before anyone could stop him. Fresh air filled Roy's lungs as his heart rate picked up in response to Ed's exertion, and he briefly shut his eyes, muttering a curse before turning to Hughes. 'Get men around the back. Surround the place if you can: soldiers, police, I don't care. Use whoever's available.'

'What about you?' Hughes called out as Roy strode away, following Ed's disappearing figure.

'I need to keep an eye on Fullmetal!' Roy quickened his pace, not running, but not exactly walking either. Hawkeye and Breda both fell in behind him. No orders were necessary. They had been on enough missions with Fullmetal to know the drill by now. Ed had a habit of falling head first into the kind of trouble that got people killed, and Roy doubted this would be an exception.

He picked up speed, too worried about Ed's welfare to bother with his own dignity. Elm Street was a short distance away, and the pavement slid by beneath his feet as he turned around the corner. Part of him expected to find Ed already gone, and his heart thumped in relief when he saw him standing in the street, glaring at number 21 with narrowed eyes. Police officers and soldiers were both at his side, sneaking unsure glances in Ed's direction as the young man stood there in silence.

Anyone who did not know Fullmetal might think he was sulking, but Roy knew what Ed looked like when his whip-quick intelligence was at work. Contrary to popular belief, Ed could be observant when he took the time to study a situation, and right now he looked as if he were daring the town house to give up its secrets.

'The curtains are drawn on the ground floor,' Breda pointed out, looking towards Colson, one of Hughes' men. 'How did you know about the dust sheets?'

The young man shrugged. 'Found a couple of gaps, looked through the letterbox – that kind of thing. The hall floor is covered in dust and there's a lot of letters on the mat. Old ones.'

Ed's head twitched in a single negative motion, and he turned towards Mustang with a frown on his face. 'Why would a caretaker look after Edil Park but not this place? He'd either look after them all, or none of them, wouldn't he?'

'Maybe this place has been deliberately let go. Something to throw people off the scent of the Caticutt properties?' Breda suggested.

'Or perhaps they're just making it look like there is no one there. People see dust and forgotten mail and assume its empty.' Hawkeye checked her gun, an action that Roy knew was almost automatic. 'It's a good way to make sure that most people don't look any closer.'

As one, they all turned their attention back to the house. Once, it had been a fine building with red brickwork and ornate pillars in the fascia, but now the mortar was starting to crumble and grime covered the windows. A tall iron fence, once black but now turning to rust, marked the boundary of the petite front garden. The briar of an untended rambling rose coiled like snakes across the grass, choking any other plants that struggled for life. To Roy, it looked abandoned, a sad testament to a dead dynasty, and he tried to smother a sigh of frustrated concern as he turned away.

'I'm not sure there's anything here to see,' he said quietly. 'One of you radio back to Havoc, see if he can find us another target. I don't think we're going to find Alphonse in this place.'

The sound of footsteps made Roy look back to see Ed striding along the line of the fence, his eyes fixed firmly on the upper floor of the house. Following his gaze, Roy frowned, trying to work out what had caught his attention. Finally, it hit him. At street level, every set of drapes was closed – a common practice to protect the furniture inside from damaging sunlight, but upstairs there was no fabric shading the glass. Either whoever locked up this place had done a bad job, or the house was not as vacant as it seemed.

'Forget that last order,' he called out, already moving to follow Ed. 'Tell Hughes there's something not quite right about this place. It could still be a dead end, but we're taking a closer look.'

'Sir...' Hawkeye's voice was thick with a warning, and he saw her lips were pursed tight as she hurried to keep up with him. 'This is far from safe. Perhaps the house is empty, but there are no guarantees of that. If you or Edward get caught...'

She did not need to finish that sentence. They all knew what had happened to the priest's previous victims, and there was a good chance that Danner would finish off Roy and Ed if he got the chance. If nothing else, he did not seem like the kind of man who liked to be reminded of his own failings. He had never intended for Roy and Ed to be bound to each other in the first place, and walking blind into the midst of the priest's lair was practically suicide.

'We're just looking for confirmation, that's all. Even Fullmetal's not foolish enough to rush into this, and we're here to stop him if we have to.' Roy bit his lip, trying to ignore the thrashing in his stomach. If Ed really wanted to dive in and rescue Al, then Roy doubted any of them would be able to stop him, but acknowledging that he was powerless to protect Ed from his own actions was not something Roy could do. Ed had already surprised him today by following orders and staying out of the hunt. Perhaps he would still listen to reason if necessary.

Turning the corner of the fence, he stopped, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as he saw a thick, solid metal gate. There was no wrought iron filigree here, but a dense, thick barrier roughly eight feet tall. It was rusted like the fence, but the frame of it was blackened and warped, as if it had been subjected to great heat not too long ago.

'Someone set off an array,' Ed said, pointing to the subtle lines in the metal, now black and dead. 'It was probably put here to stop thieves from getting in when they shut the place down, but someone got past it recently.'

'Or sacrificed someone else to it,' Breda suggested, flicking on the radio he had commandeered from one of Hughes' men. 'Got signs of forced entry around the side. Requesting backup.'

'Roger that.' Hughes' voice buzzed in the air, painfully distorted. 'Wait there. I'll have a dozen men with you in two minutes.'

Roy stepped back, looking along the line of the fence as it continued around the garden. Each spike was taller than him, making entry awkward, if not impossible, and a closer look at the nearby spars showed tiny arrays on each one, gleaming faintly with stored power. The designs were old, and the creep of rust had corrupted some, rendering them useless. Clearly they were the original, crude security system to prevent the theft of any valuables inside.

The Caticutts had a ruthless reputation, and there were probably deadly arrays within the house as well. From the evidence in front of them, whoever the intruder was had not bothered to de-activate the array. They had simply set it off and walked through once the power faded. Either that or they had perished in the attempt.

Tentatively, Roy reached out, nudging the door and groaning when he heard the subtle clank of a padlock on the other side. Someone had definitely got in, and they had decided to protect the place by more traditional means than alchemy. Locks could be broken, but the presence of a padlock on the inside meant that whoever had stolen into the place was still there, barricaded in like a lord defending his castle.

'That looks like an ice house.' Ed's quiet voice sounded rough to Roy's ears, and he looked over to where Fullmetal was peering through the bars of the fence. He had chosen two of the most decrepit, their arrays already obliterated by decay, but a fine, high note resonated along the perimeter as the other arrays hummed out a warning. 'That's probably where they kept Max's body.'

Moving closer, Roy tried to ignore the tense warmth of Ed's body in front of him as he peered over his shoulder for a better look. The garden of the town house stretched a long way back, and amidst the overgrown greenery a small, ornate building stood. It looked like a mausoleum, all carved from stone, but Roy could just make out the word “ice” carved above the door in old Amestrian.

'Maybe this is the right place after all.'

'Question is, how do we get in?' Breda asked, scratching his stubbled jaw as he eyed the gate thoughtfully. 'Busting the padlock should be easy enough, but it'll make a lot of noise. Anyone inside will come running.'

'We can't mess with the fence, either,' Ed added, flicking one of the bars with a steel finger and making the metal chime softly. 'Every bar is booby-trapped. We don't have time to disarm them all, and if we do anything too vicious the whole lot will blow up.'

Roy pursed his lips, looking over his shoulder as Hughes arrived at a run with a mixture of both police and soldiers at his heels. Without wasting a moment, Hughes began to speak, his words tripping over each other in their haste.

'Anders is watching the back, and both Fuery and Falman have their own unit patrolling the streets nearby. I don't think there's a way out we haven't got covered.' He jerked his head up at the house, green eyes scanning the windows automatically. 'Another contingent of men is hiding out opposite and watching the windows. If anything moves up there, we'll know about it.' He gestured with the radio in his hand while a faint, nervous grin played on his lips. 'Anything I missed?'

'I doubt it,' Roy replied with a smile of his own. 'Now it's just a case of getting inside.' He stepped back, staring at the house critically before he turned to Ed. 'Is there anything on the other side? Any kind of defensive array that you can see?'

Cautiously, Ed peered through the fence, his ponytail rippling as he shook his head. 'There was, but it's been deactivated. I'd guess this is the main way in and out for some of the priest’s disciples. Not all of them can do alchemy, so any traps will have either been disarmed or triggered when one of them walked over it.'

'Doesn't care for the poor bastards much, does he?' Breda asked, standing to one side as Roy moved closer to the gate and carefully angled his hands before snapping his fingers.

A lance of flame as fine as a needle flashed outwards, assaulting the metal at close range. Normally, the amount of concentration required for this kind of precision was immense, but Roy could feel the steady flow of the bond drawing power from Ed and feeding it to the fire at his fingertips, using him like a conduit. Perhaps once, Roy would have seen that as disturbingly intimate, but it already felt natural, as if willingly sharing Ed's strength and offering his own in return was something he had done every day of his life.

Gradually, dull steel started to glow and slump, and Roy could hear the steady patter of molten metal dripping on the ground on the other side. Seconds slipped away, and he clenched his teeth as he tried to intensify the heat. Sweat prickled along his hairline, and only a thin cushion of frigid air protected his fingertips from the incinerating heat, but at last, with a sudden gout of blue-white sparks dancing along the flame's edge, they heard the heavy thud of the padlock and bolt falling to the floor.

The gate sagged on its hinges, the surface twisted and rippled by the heat, but it stayed standing, clanking as it cooled. Before more than a few seconds had passed, Ed reached out with his right hand and eased it aside. Anyone else would have suffered serious burns, but other than a dark scorch mark on his glove, his automail seemed unaffected, and there was no sign that he felt any pain.

Ed scanned the ground within the perimeter, his gaze sweeping around the interior as if expecting an attack at any moment. He was not alone in that suspicion. Hawkeye held her in a competent grip, the silenced barrel barely twitching as she surveyed the ground ahead. Roy's fingers were tense with the urge to click, and he heard Breda unholster his revolver. Behind them, their backup did the same, heavily armed and ready for a fight.

'Remember, try to be discreet,' Roy whispered. 'If we can take these people by surprise then we stand a better chance of a successful rescue. Disable, rather than kill if you can. I have questions for anyone we catch.' He met Ed's eyes in a single, knowing look before giving a single nod – not that Ed needed permission to proceed, but it was good to be following the same plan for once.

The garden stretched out in front of them while the house loomed off to the right, and Roy glanced up towards the rooftop as he considered his options. 'Search the house first. Anyone in there might be able to give us some answers, and if not then we know it's safe ground if we need to retreat.'

'Watch out for arrays,' Ed added. 'The fence is covered in them, and the house is probably just the same.'

Roy's men nodded in understanding, fanning out in an automatic search. Hughes' did the same, and the police followed suit, moving with quiet grace. Part of Roy feared they had already been spotted. If he were Danner, he would have put a lookout on the top floor of the house, but perhaps the priest was more concerned with his beliefs than his safety. Either way, no alarm had been raised, and he gestured for his men to move towards the back of the house.

'Probably easier to get in that way,' he said when Ed raised an eyebrow in question. 'The defences could be weaker.'

'Could,' Ed repeated in a flat voice, and Roy could see the tense line of his shoulders. 'Everything we do is a fucking guess. For all we know, we're already too late.'

‘If an array big enough to bind Al’s soul had gone off, we’d know about it,’ Roy pointed out, trying to keep his voice low and reassuring when he could feel the shake of it in his chest. ‘The place would stink of alchemy, and I doubt it would be this quiet. If we know the house is empty, then that's one less place to search.'

He could see the arguments in Ed's eyes, and he knew that slow and steady was not the way Fullmetal wanted to do this, but, for once, Ed was not working alone. Roy was by his side whether he liked it or not, and now those mismatched shoulders slumped as he turned towards the back door and approached the threshold.

Even from half a dozen paces away, Roy could see the arrays. They shone angry red, and the colour only intensified as they approached. The alchemy in the air was stale and old, but still powerful, and Ed looked over his shoulder, his expression fractionally smug as he gestured towards them. 'No one's been this way. These haven't been touched since they were put here.'

'Then this is a good entrance for us to use. Can you disarm them?'

It was a stupid question to ask, especially of Ed, who knew more about transmutations than most of the other state alchemists put together. After only a few moments of analysis, Ed stepped forward, carefully putting his fingertips to the first in what looked like an array cascade.

No one said a word as Ed plucked apart the tapestry of the trap with a few well-placed overloads. Angry sparks rained to the stone doorstep, harmless and futile, and when the last line finally died, Ed reached out to try the handle. The lock clanked softly, and Roy smothered a weak smile as Ed's patience found its breaking point. With a quick clap, Ed unleashed the bright light of his alchemy. Perhaps he tried to keep it subdued, but it was still a painful intensity: ice-blue with a few golden sparks in its glow. When it faded, a fine metal powder poured from the keyhole, and Roy realised it was all that remained of the tumblers as Ed inched his way inside.

The grimy kitchen beyond was thick with gloom, and Roy looked down at the floor as he stood aside to let the others in. Hawkeye and Breda instantly went ahead of him, guns twitching from one corner to the next, but only spiders disturbed the shadows. The massive fireplace was empty and dead, and dustsheets draped over the lights made ghostly shapes near the ceiling. Dust covered the chequered floor tiles, black and white made equal by years of neglect, and even the air seemed stale and untouched.

'We're leaving a trail,' Hughes said, gesturing downwards to where Roy's boots were leaving clear-cut marks in the grime of the years. 'Anyone who comes in after us is going to know we're here.'

With a quick sound of irritation, Roy shrugged out of his jacket, screwing it up into a ball and tossing it to Colson, who was the last through the door. 'Everyone, wipe out your footprints,' he ordered in a hiss. 'People will know someone's here, but they won't know how many of us they're up against. That's the best we can do.'

Looking towards the kitchen door, he tried to guess the layout of the house from what he had seen from the outside. It was by no means small, and they would be better off splitting up to clear more ground, even if it did increase their risk of succumbing to an attack. 'Go your separate ways and check each room,' he said at last. 'Make sure that you've got back up nearby, and shout if you run into trouble or find any arrays. Just because we got in doesn't mean we're safe.'

Part of that was aimed at Ed, whose hand was already stretched towards the double doors that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. In the dusky shadows, he stood out bright and sharp: an easy target. The thought of Ed being hurt made Roy's skin prickle with caustic alarm, and he was not sure it was just fear for his own safety that twisted his nerves tighter with every moment.

He knew that the bond tied them painfully close, and that Ed’s survival was probably intrinsically linked with his own, but even without that threat hanging over his head, his fear would still be as strong as any punch. At least when Ed was on assignments Roy could only imagine the danger Ed charged into on a daily basis. Here and now, he was witnessing it first-hand, and balancing the need to rescue Alphonse with the undeniable urge to shield Ed from the priest was a bitter challenge.

Without a word, Ed pulled open the door, and Roy watched him quickly check ahead for any arrays before turning left. The police and soldiers with them broke up into small groups, armed and ready to search each room, and Roy barely spared them a glance as he slipped after Ed, leaving Hawkeye and Breda to follow while Hughes brought up the rear, quietly scuffing out their tracks as he went.

The darkness was thicker here, with shrouded windows and narrow corridors offering nothing but blackness to the air. As quietly as he could, Roy snapped, stoking a flame no bigger than that of a candle in his palm. It was not much, and the glow cast crazy, dancing shadows up the walls, but it leant some definition to the lingering twilight.

Each step took them deeper into the house, away from the main splendour and back towards the essential rooms that kept a bespoke manor running. There were storage cupboards and sculleries, pantries and washrooms, all marked by the passage of time. With every passing moment, Roy became more and more convinced that they were alone in the building, the first living people to walk the floors in almost a hundred years.

'Look.'

Hawkeye's command was simple and terse, and Roy instantly stared around, his body alert for any sign of a threat. Yet no shots were fired and no one shouted out a warning, and it took him a moment to realise that the barrel of Hawkeye's revolver was pointed firmly at a door. It was shut tight against the world, an inconspicuous panel of thick wood set into the wall, but it was the small patch of clean floor in front of it that made Roy frown.

Sparkling tile stood out like a beacon, marking the curving swing where the door had been opened. No new dust had settled, and Roy glanced over at Ed, knowing the younger man was thinking the same thing. The room beyond that door had been used often and recently, and that was not the only sign of human activity.

Beyond the polished patch in front of the door, the filth resumed its reign, and a swarm of footprints carved a path through it to an old wooden staircase nearby. Servants had probably used it once, but now the bare, rough wood was clean, polished by the tread of dozens of feet.

Cautiously, Ed reached out towards the door, turning the handle and grunting in unsurprised annoyance when the clunk of a lock met his efforts. His scowl was easy to read, and Roy reached out, curving his fingers around Ed's wrist before he could clap and blast the barrier apart. 'Wait! For all we know there are guards on the other side. I don't want to catch anyone's attention unless there's no other choice.'

'Al could be down there!'

'And so could every disciple the priest's got.' Roy shook his head vehemently, grimacing when Ed snatched his arm free. 'We need to clear the house first, and that means checking upstairs before we go breaking down doors. For all you know it could be a dead end.'

'I don't think so, sir.' Breda's ear was pressed to the wood, his eyes unfocussed as he concentrated on listening. 'I can hear something – dripping water maybe. I think it's more than just a cupboard on the other side. Didn't Havoc say that there were cellars?'

Hughes hunkered down on his knees, pressing his palm to the gap at the bottom of the door before nodding his head. 'There's cold air coming through, a good flow of it. There's probably a big, exposed area on the other side of the door: an open staircase maybe. Not good for making a subtle entrance.'

Ed made a helpless sound of frustration, a keening noise that seemed to catch in his throat, and Roy clenched his jaw as he felt the same spark and flare of irritation. He knew Ed was used to charging in, regardless of the consequences, but this time there was simply too much at stake. The bond made it difficult to be logical when Ed was practically feral with worry on the other end of it, but now was not the time to throw logic aside.

'Hawkeye, get upstairs and see what's up there. We'll be right behind you. Breda, Hughes, you two stand guard here. If you see signs of anything suspicious, come and find us.'

'Shout if you run into trouble,' Hughes replied, his words bordering on a protective order. 'I'll send another team up the main staircase. They can meet you up there.'

Roy nodded his thanks, placing one boot carefully on the old wooden steps and wincing as the planks sighed under his weight. Hawkeye was already climbing up ahead of him, every move perfectly planned as she inched around the widest edge of the spiral staircase. Her gun was cocked and raised, ready to fire at anyone waiting at the top, but even knowing that her steady aim would not fail them did little to ease the apprehension humming through Roy's frame.

He could feel Ed behind him, just a step away while the bond resonated between them. Its glow should have been bright enough to light the stairwell, but somehow the light seemed too vaporous, invisible to everyone but the two of them. Over the past few days it had been an alien presence, but now, in the quiet gloom of the town house, it was reassuring: a reminder that he was not alone.

Up ahead, Hawkeye raised her hand, motioning for them to stop. Her face was set in firm lines of concentration, and Roy saw her wet her lips as she tipped her head to the side.

There was nothing to hear. The silence in the stairwell was oppressive, the air close and humid with unease, and though Roy could see the subtle change in light that meant they were near the top, he could not detect any sign of human life waiting for them.

In one quick movement, Hawkeye surged forward, her gun doing a wide sweep as she checked the room. It took only a couple of seconds for her to aim her revolver at the ceiling, holding it close and safe as her shoulders slumped. 'All clear, sir.'

He could not tell if she sounded relieved that the room was empty or irritated that she had no targets, but Roy did not waste any time climbing the few remaining steps and looking around the long room they had found. It was like an old gallery, and it appeared to run almost half the length of the house. Undoubtedly it had once been the communal quarters belonging to the servants. Now, maids and butlers might be long gone, but people were definitely still making their home up here.

'There's nearly forty beds,' Ed murmured, standing at Roy’s side and folding his arms as he looked along the rank of rusty iron bedsteads and saggy mattresses. 'Bet it's only for the disciples, too. Can't imagine Danner sleeping in one of those.'

‘Probably not,’ Roy agreed, taking in rumpled blankets and dented pillows. 'If all these people are helping Danner bind your brother, we’d better hope they’re not armed.’ He nudged at a nearby footlocker with his boot, peering into the clothes that filled the depths. They were nondescript and civilian, the kind of thing that would blend perfectly with the crowd. ‘For all we know, this has been Danner’s secondary base from the beginning,’ he mused. ‘It doesn’t look as if they’ve just moved in, does it?’

When Ed did not reply, Roy looked over his shoulder to see him standing near one of the windows. He was leaning against the wall, conscious enough of being seen to keep out of a direct line of sight. Anyone on the ground looking up would not have been able to spot him, but Ed’s eyes were hawk-like, fixed and unmoving on one point in the garden.

Leaving Hawkeye and Breda to explore the rest of the room, Roy moved to Ed’s side, deliberately hanging back as he craned his neck to get a better look. All he could see were the tangled flowerbeds, and gnarled tree branches framing the squat ice house. ‘Did you see something?’ he whispered, adjusting his focus to take in Ed’s unflinching profile. It could have been carved of marble for all the expression on those features, but Roy could make out the fast, nervous stutter of his pulse in the hollow of his jaw. Keeping calm was costing Ed more than he could afford, but now, at last, a twitch of a ruthless grin crossed those lips.

‘Something’s moving in the ice house. Look.’

Roy stared blankly at the ugly grey building, no bigger than a family mausoleum in a churchyard. It was mostly standard fare, but there were narrow slots cut into the wall. They looked like the arrow-slits found in older buildings throughout Amestris, barely wide enough to squeeze a hand through, but he could see what had caught Ed’s attention.

A shadow flickered in the one closest to the door, as if a curtain or something similar flapped in the breeze. It was too sporadic and unnatural to be human, but Roy had not survived so long in the military by neglecting to investigate subtle anomalies. Besides, now that he looked closer, he could see small, square vents pocked seemingly at random around the building. They stretched outward across the garden, and a faint huff of triumphant laughter caught in his throat.

‘Ventilation shafts,’ he explained, pointing to the one that marred the long, scraggly grass of what had once been a lawn. ‘The ice house probably connects to the cellars. No sane person would hide somewhere with only one way out. This way if Danner’s taken by surprise, he has another escape route.’

‘And we’ve got another way in.’

Ed turned away, already heading back for the stairs as Hawkeye and Breda opened the door to the rest of the upper floor. Police and soldiers were waiting on the other side, and Roy could tell from their expressions that the house was as empty as it first seemed. Nineteen vacant rooms and countless stark cupboards, but only the gallery in which they stood and the master bedroom showed any real signs of occupation.

'Radio Anders and tell her what we found,' he ordered, already following in Ed's footsteps as he issued commands over his shoulder. 'Tell her we think the ice house and this building are linked by a common cellar. We're going to investigate.'

He did not bother to wait for confirmation as he clattered down the stairs, less concerned about stealth now that he knew there were only friends within the strong, old walls that surrounded him. Ed seemed to have the same idea; his uneven footsteps echoed heavily as he strode towards the back door, not even looking over his shoulder as he stepped outside and into the rain.

'Ice house,' Roy told Hughes and Breda, not bothering with more detail. 'Whatever happens, do not let Ed out of your sight.'

'That's going to be easier said than done,' Hughes warned, moving in a strange half-jog to keep up. 'It's Alphonse who's in danger. I'm amazed Ed's been this patient. I think it's only because he's got you to think about that he's not left us all behind.'

Roy hesitated in his stride, but recovered quickly, pursing his lips as he gave Hughes' statement some thought. So far he had put all of Ed's unexpected cooperation down to the bond giving him no other choice. Somehow it was hard to think that perhaps the issue of Roy's survival and well-being was enough to modulate Ed's behaviour. It was not that Fullmetal lacked compassion, but the thought of anything counter-balancing his need to protect his brother was almost impossible to grasp. Could it really be Ed's concern for _Roy_ that was holding Ed back from his usual thoughtless rush into action?

'Will you fucking hurry up?' Ed hissed from the doorway, scowling fiercely as Roy stepped out into the rain with Breda, Hawkeye and Hughes right behind him. 'Please tell me I don't have to wait for anyone else.'

'A few more men will meet us in the ice house,' Hughes replied before Roy could open his mouth. 'We can go ahead, but you and Roy are bringing up the rear. If one of us gets shot, then only one of us dies. Better that than someone taking out the both of you in one go.'

Roy met Ed's gaze, feeling the flash of understanding pass between them. There had never been a time when either of them would readily let another die for their own safety, and that would not change today. Roy was not about to stand back and use his men as a shield, and Ed would never let anyone else suffer as a result of Al's abduction. Hughes' orders said made sense, logically speaking, but both of them were far from helpless. Just because they were cooperating at the moment did not mean they would not give their all if it came to a fight.

Walking at Ed's side, Roy examined their surroundings, scrutinising every angle. The garden was an expanse of flat, exposed ground, and the undergrowth made every step treacherous. Thorns snagged at Roy's trousers and rain soaked through the blue cloth as he brought up the rear of their little group. The others were fanned out in front of him, Hawkeye on point while Hughes and Breda watched the flanks. Each of them had guns in their hands, but nothing presented a target in the cool air. There were not even any birds, and only the drum of the rain and the distant hum of the city filled Roy's ears.

Abruptly, Hawkeye stopped, checking the chamber of her gun with a decisive snick before she looked over her shoulder. 'Wait there please,' she ordered, not waiting for an answer as she moved towards the ice house like a tigress stalking her prey. She kept her body in a graceful half-crouch as she hurried over the intervening space, and Roy could tell she was judging clear shots and keeping herself out of any potential lines of fire.

The barrel of the gun in her hand never strayed from its aim at the doorway, and it was only when she stood a couple of paces from the wall that she flicked her hand in front of one of the arrow slits. It was an old manoeuvre, one that Roy had learned when he first signed up. Peering through a gap in a wall gave any enemy on the other side an easy kill. Better to lose a finger or two to a bullet than get shot in the head.

Nothing happened. All was quiet and still. The only sign of life was that constant, stuttering shadow that played in the cranny of the arrow slit like a moth dancing around a light bulb.

Closing the last few inches to the ice house wall, Hawkeye eased the barrel of her gun into the slim opening before taking a look along the sights. Whatever she saw was enough to make her pull back and look over her shoulder with a frown on her face. 'There's something on the floor: a bundle of cloth, perhaps. It's flapping in an updrauft.'

'If it's not a threat, then it's not a problem,' Ed said, pacing towards the square stone door and splaying his gloved hands over its surface. 'Unless it's going to help us find Al, then I'm not interested.' With a grunt of effort, he pushed at the slab that stood in his way, the tendons in his neck straining against the weight as he tried to get inside.

In seconds, Roy joined him, lending his strength to the effort as they both fought against the stalwart portal blocking their path. At first, Roy thought the door would not open – that it was locked or sealed from the inside somehow – but inch-by-inch, it began to swing inwards. At first it was painfully slow, but as the huge hinges pivoted silently in their barrels, the door picked up speed until the cold air from within rushed outward, raising goose bumps on Roy's skin.

Gloomy daylight cut past them in shafts, piercing the darkness and casting long shadows across the floor. The light was weak, but the ice house seemed to glow an eerie blue from within, and Roy licked his lips as his eyes adjusted and began to pick out dusky shapes. From the outside, the building looked insignificant, but now he could see the stonework cutting into the earth. Broad, worn steps led downwards from the large platform on which they stood. Stone tanks for the ice were cut into the walls all the way down. Most were empty, but one nearby was still filled with melting, pink-tinged ice, and Roy stared at it for a moment before tearing his gaze away.

The steps carried on down into the darkness, and Roy could feel the air stirring around him, forming its own currents as it raced off into the subterranean night. 'Passageway?' he asked in a whisper, stepping aside as Hawkeye pushed her way past him with a meaningful look on her face.

'Possibly, but whatever it is, you let us go in first.' The lieutenant looked from him to Ed and back again, the set of her jaw uncompromising before she turned to examine the cause of the shadow that had caught their attention in the first place. It looked nondescript and unrecognisable, like a discarded pile of laundry. It was only when Roy quietly clicked his fingers again and fed the flame in his palm that he saw the pale hand outstretched: helpless and dead.

It was attached to an arm clothed in a drab, shapeless sleeve, and now that Roy could see properly, the unrecognisable contours of the bundle began to take on a new meaning. The corpse was dressed in the grey robe of the disciples, a hood drawn up and its face hidden from sight. An inky stain, which Roy had assumed was nothing but a trick of the light, glowed like claret in the firelight: unmistakably red and wet.

Ed moved first, nudging the thing's shoulder with his boot until the body flopped over and the hood fell back. Brown, glassy eyes stared at the ceiling, and a trail of dried blood seeped from the corner of a slack mouth. Someone had stabbed him in the chest, probably killing him instantly, judging from the angle of the wound, but Roy still swallowed back the sharp taste of bile as he stared down at the body.

'That's Jenson,' Hughes murmured, hunkering down for a closer look. 'One of the police who took Al.'

'I doubt this was the reward he was expecting,' Roy replied, taking a closer look. The man was stocky, with hair cut close to his head and an old, faint scar slicing along his chin. He looked normal, just another man in the street, and it was only the glimpse of a police uniform at the collar of the robe that told a different story. 'He didn't put up a fight,' Roy pointed out, gesturing to the pallid skin of the man's knuckles. 'Even if he threw a punch and died a minute later, there'd be a mark.'

'So someone he knew killed him. Who cares?' Ed asked from where he stood at the peak of the stairs. His weight shifted as if, at any moment, he would race down into the darkness and out of sight. 'It's one less of the fuckers to fight when we find my brother. Are you coming or not?'

'Brigadier-General, do you need any help?'

The police officer at the doorway who had asked the question raised his hands, pale-faced and submissive in the sights of Hawkeye's gun. The others in uniform, both military and police, tensed as if expecting a shot, but none of them stepped away. 'Deputy Inspector Anders did not think that five against forty were good odds.'

'Smart woman,' Hughes murmured, shrugging his shoulders as he met Roy's eyes. 'We need all the help we can get.'

'You're with me on point,' Roy said, glancing over at Hawkeye's indrawn breath of frustration. 'You'll be at my side, Lieutenant, but someone's got to light the way.' He lifted his hand in emphasis, breathing more life into the flame in his palm. 'Hughes, Breda, bring up the rear. It's easy enough for someone to cut around and surprise us from behind. I'd transmute the door shut, but we might need to make a quick exit.'

It was tempting to consign Ed to the back along with Hughes and Breda, but Roy knew Fullmetal would never take such blatant protection lying down. Instead he settled for the next best thing and let Ed fall in at his side. At least there, Roy could keep an eye on him and act to neutralise any threat if necessary. Logically, he knew Ed could look after himself, but that knowledge did not ease the taut concern that resonated along his nerves. There was so much about this situation that lay beyond his control, and that helplessness only amplified Roy's stress.

They moved along in silence, descending down the gloomy, damp stairwell as if they were no more than shadows. The occasional scrape of a boot on stone was shockingly loud, but Roy doubted the sound would carry far. None of the men here were amateurs; they knew what they were doing, and their professionalism showed with every step.

Dank cobwebs brushed against Roy's cheek, but he ignored the repulsive sensation as the stone underfoot grew increasingly slippery. The flame in his hand had grown more steady, no longer disturbed by the rush of air, and he knew they were moving deeper underground. It was only when one of the men up ahead hissed a shocked curse that Roy paused, lifting the flame higher to get a better look.

Close walls opened outwards into a huge, cavernous cellar. The vaulted ceiling, a masterpiece of engineering, loomed before them, and a narrow, open-sided staircase picked its vertiginous way down to the distant floor. Pillars, like the vast trunks of petrified trees, formed the rank and file of support that held up the ground overhead, and braziers burned on each, making pools of light. Water trickled along drainage channels cut into a polished stone floor, casting crazy snakes of light on the high ceiling as they reflected what little illumination there was.

'There's no one down here,' Hughes murmured, looking over at Roy in bafflement. 'It's empty.' He motioned to the far wall, just visible, and the intervening floor between. 'I'm sorry, Ed, but I don't think your brother's here.'

Ed did not even pause as he pushed his way past the men in front and started down the steps, never taking his eyes off the floor below. 'If there's no one here, then who lit the torches?' he asked, looking back up at them with cunning intelligence in his eyes. 'And what's through the door?' He jerked his thumb towards a crude arch cut into the wall to the right. It was taller than two men standing on each other's shoulders, but it was still dwarfed by the sheer size of the cellar around it, and easy to miss in the uncertain light.

'Ed, wait,' Roy ordered, muttering something rude under his breath as Ed ignored him, moving with graceful haste down the steps. 'We can't see the whole room from here. There's no way of knowing if it's safe!' He gritted his teeth, trying not to lose his temper as his stomach brimmed with nervous butterflies, and quickly began issuing orders to the men around him.

'Get down there and clear the room. Hawkeye, you stay up here and snipe any threats you see. Breda, you too.'

'Yes, sir.' They said it in unison, both already braced at the precipitous edge of the open stairway as Roy and Hughes eased their way down, struggling to choose between speed and stealth. Up ahead, Roy could see that Ed had slowed down, crouching lower to the steps as he craned his head to see around the pillars. In theory, the braziers should cast the shadows of anyone hiding behind the pillars into plain sight, but Roy was not willing to believe the room was as empty as it seemed.

His hands hurt, clenched tight as they were, fingers poised to snap at any moment. His gloves were startlingly white in the gloom, the arrays on them stark and comforting as his mind turned over one strategy after another. Every instinct he possessed hummed out a warning, and he knew Ed would be feeling the same thing. Both of them were too experienced to walk into an unknown location with wide-eyed innocence, but Ed's urgency was getting the better of him.

At last, Ed got to the bottom of the stairs and stepped out onto the cold stone floor.

Roy's breath caught in his chest, stalled in his lungs as he waited for an attacker's cry, but none came. The room remained crypt-quiet, undisturbed by anything but the stutter of one of the nearby braziers. Its uneven light caught Ed's attention, and Roy saw him look towards it in confusion at the same moment that the shadows leapt.

'Look out!'

The cry of warning ripped itself from his throat, almost drowned out by the clap and spark of Ed's alchemy. The muscles in Roy's arm twitched painfully as the automail blade sprang to life, brought up just in time to block the downward arc of a thick quarter-staff. Splinters flew as the burly disciple leant all his weight down on Ed's smaller frame, trying to bear him to the ground as the other ambushers sprung out from their hiding place beneath the stairs.

They reached up, dragging down any soldiers and police within reach before attacking with blades or blunt instruments. Shots rang out, punctuating the air, but thick chaos reigned. Roy snapped and snapped again, sending precision lances of flame out into the room, but it took all his concentration to engulf enemies, rather than allies, and he rushed closer, knowing that he needed to reduce his range if he wanted to improve his aim.

With a brutal flick of his hand, he sent fire whipping towards Ed and his assailant. The disciple landed a punch on Ed's ribs, and Roy wheezed as the pain bit back along the bond, blooming across his chest at the same time that Ed winced from the blow. Still, it was not enough to break Roy's concentration, and he forced the fire to close like a deathly flower, leaving Ed untouched as the grey robes of the disciple began to burn along with the man inside them.

'Mustang, watch it!'

Roy spun around, sweat running down his cheek as he saw where the ambushers had been hiding. Beneath the steps, utterly hidden from sight, crude arches had been carved in the stone like crooked eyes. Within their shadows, more figures stirred before stepping forward into the light. Roy was not sure if their earlier estimate of forty disciples had been inaccurate, but there seemed to be at least twenty in the room with them, and they had the element of surprise.

Before he could lift his hand to snap again, bright blue alchemy flashed, golden at its edges. The floor in front of him ripped itself apart like a mouth, swallowing three disciples whole, yet more replaced them, unconcerned by their fallen comrades.

Men swarmed between the pillars, fighting running battles as the disciples darted back and forth, picking off stragglers and launching themselves into the fray. Roy could hear Breda and Hawkeye running down the steps in an effort to get a clear shot, but there was no time to spare to watch them. He was too busy ducking and weaving, ignoring the whine of his tired body as he tried to avoid one attack after another.

Ed was only an arm's length away, the bond vivid and strong between them, but every time one of them was hit, it flickered back along the link, hurting the other in equal measure, and that simple fact meant Roy was defending himself rather than attacking, too busy to avoid blows to land one himself. Fire alchemy was a fantastic long-range weapon, but this close it would be as deadly to him as any target, and he did not dare use it now that he was in the thick of the fight.

'Mustang, duck!'

Roy's body obeyed Ed's order without any input from his mind, and he winced as something metallic slashed overhead, cutting across the face of the nearest disciple. The bald man staggered back, his hands clutched to his face as blood trickled between his fingers. His misery was short-lived as Hawkeye's shot found its target, leaving a neat red hole in the side of the man's head.

Panting breaths scraped along Roy's throat, but before he could utter a word of thanks to either Ed or the lieutenant, the crackle of alchemy caught his attention.

It was too strong to be anything that he and Ed were doing, and a chill stole over him as the air began to hiss and hum. Distantly, over the sound of gunfire and bitter cries of pain, he could make out the fast, frantic chanting of dozens of people. They sounded frightened, their voices too high and nervous, but the noise was clearly all Ed needed to hear.

He dashed forward, dodging around fighting soldiers and jumping over prone bodies as he stumbled towards the door in the wall. Roy's frightened cry of warning went unheeded, and he lunged into a run, following blindly as the panic that had simmered below the surface all day finally rose to the fore. Roy knew that Ed probably could not hear him and would not listen even if he could, but one thing was clear: a bitter truth whispered by the rising power in the air.

They were too late: the transmutation to bind Al's soul had already begun.


	13. Chapter 13

The stench of blood and desperation filled the air as Ed threw himself against the door, feeling the old wood flex beneath his weight before it swung open and crashed back against the wall. Dimly, he heard some of the disciples who had ambushed them shout a challenge, but the hiss of the alchemical storm that boiled in the next room drowned out their threats.

Energy crackled along the brickwork, snaking gracefully over old masonry and making the hairs on Ed's arms stand on end. Dazzling white light edged with violet bit at his eyes, and every breath tasted like rusting iron. Danner's transmutation was in full-swing, the priest himself on the periphery controlling it, and Al right in the middle.

Shielding his eyes with his hand, Ed bit back a curse as he picked out his brother's spread-eagled form in the centre of the spitting array. Al's eyes were glazed and unfocussed, and his face was slack in a drug-induced fog. He was as helpless as Roy had been a few days ago, and Ed's muscles jumped with useless adrenaline as his mind churned through one plan after another.

A faint noise on the edge of his hearing was Ed's only warning of a threat, and he ducked just in time. A thick hatchet cut over his head before becoming wedged in the wooden frame of the door. Spinning around, he kept himself hunkered low, hands spread-wide and head half-ducked as he looked up at his attacker through the veil of his hair.

The disciple was huge, easily as big as Max, but it was only when Ed noticed the limp that he recognised the man. He was one of the men who had been at Edil Park, and it was because of Ed that he was struggling to walk. The smirk on the disciple's face told its own story of vengeance, and Ed gritted his teeth against a tight scream of frustration. He did not have time for this, not now!

His automail blade was already out, cleaving a cold, hard line over the back of Ed's right wrist, and he brought it up defensively as the disciple yanked his weapon free. Yellow teeth bared in a grimace as he flicked the hatchet back and forth, searching for a weakness in Ed's guard. Behind him, Roy and the others were still fighting off the remnants of the ambush. Gouts of flame and gunshots rang out, ricochets spat sparks and the braziers flickered, but there was no sign of any help coming Ed's way.

Roy was the nearest, battling a couple of grey-robed men. His dark eyes flickered to meet Ed's gaze for a split-second, but he was cut off from the doorway, embroiled in his own fight and unable to offer any assistance.

The hatchet in the disciple's hand flashed as it swung in a wide, deep arc, more graceful than Ed expected. It cleaved the air in two a bare inch from his stomach, and he leapt back with a curse, grunting as the wall stopped his retreat. He half expected Danner or the other robed-figures to join the fight, but they were too involved in the all-consuming alchemy. This was a two-man battle, and one that Ed had to end quickly.

Ducking around, he lashed out with his blade, driving the disciple back with a stab followed by a quick slash. Izumi's old teachings echoed in his mind: a fight was a dance with weapons. By connecting every movement, a man could put forth a flawless defence. Unlike his opponent, Ed was used to using all of his body, and he hacked and jabbed, ducked and dodged with ease. Yet the big man was no oaf. A quick mind worked behind piggy dark eyes, and what he lacked in speed he made up for in strength. More than once, Ed found himself retreating. It was only when the vee of the room's corner caught him in it clutches that he realised how much ground he had lost.

The disciple drew his arm back, leaving his chest open and his throat exposed. It was instinctive to step forward and lash out, but only the fabric of the man's robe parted beneath Ed's blade. The cloth gaped, but the skin beneath remained untouched, and the disciple lunged forwards, the jagged edge of the blade arcing downwards with brutal accuracy.

'Don't!'

Danner's cry was high-pitched, almost animal, and Ed turned his head to stare at the priest. Sweat glossed the man's scarred face, running in rivulets down his cheeks and glistening like diamonds in his short hair. His outstretched arms were shaking, and cracked, bloody lips stuck to his teeth. The whites of his eyes were easily visible, bright with fear, and for the first time Ed realised that something had gone wrong.

'Don't kill him! His brother's no good to us! He's the only one!'

The array's tempest was bitter and wild, filling the room with lightning and the astringent scent of power. The disciple sacrifices were still alive, huddled around the edge of the array. No chant stirred the room, and even if it had Ed knew it would barely be audible over the growing scream of the transmutation.

Alchemy done right sounded like a song to him, with each note in its place, but this was a discordant clash of sound as the energy snaked around Alphonse, striking out only to short and discharge as if met by some invisible obstacle. As always, questions rose in Ed's mind and theories began to turn, but he shoved them ruthlessly aside as he considered his options.

His attacker was still before him, arms upraised in a killing stroke. It was almost as if Danner's words had turned him to stone, and Ed flashed a grin as he saw the realisation of vulnerability in the disciple's eyes a split-second too late. He never stood a chance as Ed lunged forward, jamming his knee up hard into the man's stomach and bringing his metal elbow down on the back of his skull with a sickening crack.

Instantly, the big man folded to the floor, his weapon falling from senseless fingers as he sprawled on the stone ground. Ed was not sure if he was dead or merely unconscious, and he did not have time to check as he broke into a sprint, tearing across the intervening space towards the array at the same second that Roy and his men dashed into the room.

'Stay back!' Danner screamed, his outstretched fingers curling into claws as the tendons in his neck stood out in thick cords beneath his skin. 'All of you, stay back!'

'You're going to blow us all to bits!' Ed yelled over the din, wincing as a line of power lashed out like a whip to earth itself in the ground by his foot. 'Can't you see it's out of control? You need to drain it off!'

'And let you take me down when I'm done?' The priest shook his head fiercely, drops of sweat glistening as they flew from his skin. 'That's not how this is going to end, My Lord! Your greatness is known from here to every border and beyond.' White teeth flashed in a calculating grin. 'Time to show us what you're made of!'

Ed spat a curse as he watched Danner tear himself free of the transmutation's grip, giving up control as the power went supernova. He could feel it beginning to unravel, spinning apart towards a catastrophic explosion. The array was surging onwards, the current racing around the lines with no outlet, amplifying itself through the design until the air began to shake with a low, dire note of warning that slammed into Ed like a battering ram.

He did not remember making the conscious decision to move forwards, but his knees slammed into the ground as he spread his fingertips on the array's periphery, feeling the energy tear back through him. The shock made him bite his tongue, and he felt rather than saw Roy reel from the sudden onslaught of sheer strength vibrating along the bond.

Someone was shouting something, but Ed could not make out the words as he focussed every ounce of his will on picking up the reins that Danner had dropped. It was like snatching coals from a burning fire; every action burnt him and every breath filled his chest with bright hot pain, but the alternative was unthinkable. If the array went off, more than those within the cellar would see the end of their lives. It could take down a city block.

His teeth clenched tight, shooting sparks of pain along his jawbone as he wrestled with the invisible tug of war that filled the room. Clots of power, thick and explosive, stifled the array, creating dangerous deposits wherever Ed looked. As soon as he smoothed one out into something he could manage, another would form, bigger and more deadly than before.

Hoary light danced across his eyelids as he screwed his face up, throwing all his strength into trying to control the array. Parts of it were already discharging, and he heard the crack of splitting masonry and the patter of falling mortar as another bolt of energy shot into the roof like a backwards lightning strike.

Instinctively, he hunched smaller, a curled ball of trembling muscles, prostrate on his knees with his forehead curled in low. He could feel the hum of the array's lines a bare inch from his brow, but there was no other choice. If something fell on him and knocked him out, it would be the last thing he or anyone else left in the cellar ever knew.

'Evacuate the street! Get everyone out, now!' Roy's order cut across the crackling hiss of the transmutation like a knife sliding through silk. Ed heard the brief drum of sprinting footsteps before a different kind of warmth covered his back, human and real. Abruptly, the power shifted, as if something around him held back the tide. He blinked his eyes open and lifted his head to stare at the array.

His hands still rested on the periphery, but they were not alone. Roy's were on either side, arms spread wide and the designs on the back of his gloves already sparking from the excess power in the air. Roy's body was curled over his: a protective shield, and despite his jacket and vest, Ed could feel the heat of Roy's forehead against his shoulder blades. Worse, he could feel him shaking as the forces that churned around them threatened to tear him apart.

Part of him wanted to call Roy a fucking idiot for putting himself in so much danger, but Mustang was not a fool; he knew what could happen if this all went wrong. All Ed could do was take advantage of the tiny isolation circuit Roy's palms created and begin fixing the mess Danner had dumped them on their heads.

Progress was agonisingly slow, made worse by the discomfort and strain that kept ricocheting along the bond. It went both ways, affecting Ed as much as Roy, but every effort Ed made was a race against time: his ability to tame the array versus Roy's capacity to hold the power at bay. Ed's eyes were burning, barely blinking, and his chest ached from too many shallow, panicked breaths, but Ed finally realised there was only one thing he could do.

'I can earth it,' he shouted, hoping Roy could hear him, 'but there's still a good chance it will bring the house down on top of us! I need you to help me grab Al and run.'

Roy gave a groan-like response – mere sound, rather than words – and Ed swallowed tightly as he hoped that Mustang had the strength left to get out before the roof fell on their heads. A quick glance around the room proved it was almost empty: no disciples and no Danner. Most of the police and soldiers were also gone – running for their lives if they had any sense. Only Breda, Hughes and Hawkeye remained, pale-faced and guns at the ready as they waited to see how this would end.

'You concentrate on the array and getting yourselves out. We'll get Al! There's a corridor over there.' Ed followed Hughes' pointing finger to a narrow cleft cut through the rock. 'It's another exit. As soon as you tell us it's safe to grab Al, that's where we'll be heading.'

Ed nodded once, a brief gesture of understanding before he focussed again on the wailing tangle of energy before him. While it might be more controlled now, flowing smoothly through both him and the array, it was still just as volatile and dangerous. Reversing it when all the power that would have transmuted something still boiled in the air, unused, meant giving the alchemical energy somewhere to go. Ed could earth it, but it meant using himself like a lightning rod.

He had done it before, but things were different now. There was nothing simple about dragging so much power through a single human body, and the bond between him and Roy made things a hundred times more complicated.

'It's going to have to go through us,' Ed explained, already closing his eyes and forcing himself to concentrate. 'It's the only half-safe chance of discharging it. You ready?'

He felt Roy's chest, still pressed close to his back, swell with a bracing indrawn breath, and sensed Roy's head jerk up and down where his brow was still pressed to Ed's shoulder blades. 'What do I have to do?' Roy's voice sounded hoarse and parched, but there was still strength in those words, and Ed felt the muscles in his arms tighten.

'Nothing. Just don't fight back against it, no matter what it feels like. Things will really go to shit if you try and push it back.'

Ed flexed his hands where they lay on the edge of the array, opening himself inch by inch to the hurricane of power that still circled the room. He tried to be gentle, but the surge slammed into him like a tidal wave, blazing towards him and sinking into his skin. He heard Roy's choked protest and felt the bond go wild with the strength of the alchemy. The array on his wrist began to itch and burn, but it was a minor sensation in comparison to everything else.

Earthing the transmutation did not hurt, at least, not in a normal way. Instead it struck every nerve into a humming symphony, turning Ed's body into a thing of total awareness. Every sense intensified, and his clothes suddenly rasped against trembling skin . Roy's panting breaths on the nape of his neck struck up shivers of response as they passed across his flesh, and Ed's spine coiled and tightened as the alchemy continued to shoot into him, driving itself down through his knees and into the ground.

Tiles split with a sound like gunfire, and Ed winced as a splinter cut deep into his knee. The walls were rumbling, groaning in protest as the floor that had held them up for so long contorted, snake-like and unstable. The first stone from the roof, shorn of all mortar, lost its fight with gravity and plummeted downwards, breaking into pieces a few feet from Ed's right hand. Yet even as the cellar began to shake itself apart, the alchemy that scorched the air was fading, dwindling away to nothing but sparks as it coursed down into the neutral ground.

'Go!' Ed yelled, cracking open one eye. 'Grab Al and get out of here. We'll be right behind you!' He watched Hughes and Breda both leap into action, rushing forward to slice the silken cloth that bound Al's hands and hauling him up by the shoulders, dragging him unceremoniously towards the nearby passageway.

'Can you stand up?' Hawkeye called out, shooting another falling brick a dark look before glancing up at the ceiling. 'Sir? Edward?'

Peeling his hands away from the array, Ed shrugged his shoulders, breathing a sigh of relief when Roy moved. For a minute, he was afraid Mustang had lost consciousness, but a glance over his shoulder told him that Roy was still alert, pallid and shaking as he leaned back on his heels, but well enough to get out under his own steam.

'Come on,' Ed ordered, stumbling to his feet and grimacing as pain bit into his knee. 'You can keel over once we're out of here. Hawkeye, just go!'

More stones fell, thicker and faster now, and Ed swore as one almost clipped his shoulder. Before he knew what was happening, Roy surged to his feet, snatching Ed's left hand in his right and sprinting across the dead array. Hawkeye was right in front of them, a sprinting blue figure half lost in the darkness, and Ed narrowed his eyes as she ducked sideways into the narrow corridor that cut through the wall.

A loud crack made him look up, and he skidded to a halt, hauling hard on Roy's arm and snatching him back as a slab the size of a tabletop slammed down ahead of them. It exploded in fragments of stone and dust that billowed outwards, stinging Ed's eyes and making him cough as he stumbled over the debris before ducking out of the room.

With every step, the sounds grew lower and more ominous. Tight walls squeezed around him, and the ceiling bulged and dipped as occasional showers of dust rained down. Burning torches, few and far between, lit the way, but the close, grit-choked air meant the flames were sullen, weary things, barely showing Ed the floor beneath his feet. Old tiles, chipped and faded with age, made his hurried footsteps sound sharp, but at least they were still whole. The discharge of the alchemy had not wrought its damage this far from the array.

Ed dragged Roy along behind him, trying to hear anything over the gasp of his own breathing and the thunder of his pulse in his ears. Dimly, he could make out the others up ahead, their footsteps echoing strangely along the narrow space, but the whispering groans of the ceiling above his head had his full attention.

He was listening so intently, waiting for the moment when the murmuring creaks grew louder and more ominous, that he almost did not hear Roy speak. He only looked over his shoulder when those slim, gloved fingers tightened around his hand.

'You're bleeding.' Roy said it softly, almost a whisper, but Ed heard it as clearly as if Roy had shouted in his ear, and he jerked his head down to look at the floor. True enough, the dirty tiles were smeared with dots of bright red, nothing huge, but enough to stand out against the bland canvas of the ground.

'It's just my knee,' Ed replied, not taking the time to stop and show Roy the injury as he forcefully pulled the man onwards. 'It can wait. Come on, it can't be much farther.'

He expected Roy to argue – the bastard always got ridiculously paranoid over a bit of blood – but for once Roy did not question him further. The alchemy must have taken more out of both of them than Ed had realised. Roy was silent, his hand puppet-slack in Ed's grasp as he followed meek and docile at his stumbling heels.

Grimly, Ed reached out to the side with his spare hand, splaying metal fingers over the wall in an effort to keep his balance. His automail knee felt like rock, and every step sent another dozen needles of pain through his flesh leg. Muscles, twisted into aching knots by the alchemy's force, now shook, barely capable of holding up his weight. Walking in a straight line was almost impossible, and when a zephyr of fresh air drifted over his face, cooling the sweat on his forehead, Ed almost sank to the floor with relief.

Only the thought of Al kept his tired body going, pushing him onwards until the passage opened out. Darkness stretched in every direction, interrupted only by the bright eye of an open door high up one wall. It looked as if it simply floated there, dozens of feet above Ed's head, and it was only when his sluggish mind worked through the logic that he realised there had to be some steps they could climb.

Roy's fingers snapped, as feeble as a wet twig crunching underfoot, but it was enough to drag up the sparks he needed. The sick flame stuttered, as crippled by weariness as the man who controlled it, but it cast _some_ light, chasing off the shadows and showing them the way. What had started off as a panicked race to escape was now a tired trudge back towards daylight.

Here the walls were solid and sound, and the distant ceiling looked unmarked by what had happened only a short distance away. Logically, Ed knew it made sense. Earthing the transmutation had been a localised drain and its damage should have been limited, but he still found himself twitching at every out-of-place sound, expecting the rush of falling rock and the crushing weight of a collapse.

'Sir?' Hawkeye's voice called out from the top of the steps, and Ed squinted up the seemingly endless rough-hewn stairway to her silhouette in the door. 'We need to evacuate quickly. The house seems stable, but –'

A rumbling roar cut her off, and Ed screwed up his eyes as a fine shower of dust rained down on him, coating his skin in grit. The noise filled his ears, growing in volume, and he felt a sudden surge of air chase them up the stairway, dry, stale, and sharp with a fine fog of debris. He and Roy both froze in place, instinct hunching them smaller until the din finally fell away, leaving nothing but a distant, unsteadily rattling noise, like pebbles dropped down a well.

'That sounded like a ceiling falling in,' Roy murmured, following Ed with a faint groan as they picked up their pace, a new surge of adrenaline giving them strength.

'Probably the room where the array was drawn,' Ed replied, pushing himself onwards and trying to ignore the increasing whine of his body's demands for rest. 'Doesn't matter. If something caved in, then the stability of everything else is compromised, including this place.'

As if to confirm his statement, a few loose stones clattered down from the edge of the next step, skipping and bouncing towards the distant floor as Ed and Roy finally reached the doorway, emerging into the faded wealth of the town house. Hawkeye was waiting for them, her gun still cocked and ready to fire, and she did not give them a chance to catch their breath as she marched them both through the building and out onto the street.

Instantly, Ed scanned the road for Al, his heart jumping erratically as panic tried to grip him again. Exhaustion was making his head foggy, whittling down his needs to simple, basic things, and his highest priority was making sure his little brother was all right.

At last he saw him sitting in one of the military cars. The back door was open, and Al was hunched on the edge of the seat with his bare feet on the rain-smeared road. His face was tinged green and grey, and he clenched a blanket over his shoulders in a white-knuckled fist. He tried to smile when he saw Ed, but it was little more than a ghostly grimace, and it quickly turned into a frown as Ed limped closer.

'You're hurt,' Al managed in a croaking slur, blinking his eyes hard a few times as if he was having trouble focussing. 'What happened?'

'It's nothing,' Ed replied, trying to keep the pinch of pain off his features as he hunkered down in front of Al, not caring about the fine drizzle that still fell from the sky or the puddle-dappled pavement. 'What about you? Did they hurt you?'

Al shifted the blanket, showing Ed the bloody slices of the array cut into his wrist. The wound was shallow and carefully crafted, but that simply made the protective snarl of fury ache in Ed's chest. Clean lines marked the design, and Ed let out a tiny sigh as he turned his brother's wrist towards the light.

'The alchemy didn't work on you,' he said, not sure how aware Al had been about what was happening to him. Even now he seemed a bit out of it, like the simple act of listening was a struggle. 'When Danner was done with Roy, the array was already black. For some reason it couldn't even touch you.'

Al ducked his head, hitching the blanket closer around his shoulders as he shrugged. 'I can't remember much of what happened. I saw the police take Havoc out, then they got to me. I hit one of them, but they shoved a cloth over my mouth. After that it's all just –' He waved his left hand a little before pressing his fingertips to his forehead. '– words. I don't even know if what I heard was real or just a dream.'

Ed shook his head fiercely, seeing the lines of distress etched in Al’s face. Bad enough that his little brother had been subjected to the priest’s alchemy, even if it had failed; he did not need beat himself up over what he had heard under the influence of whatever fucked up drug they had pumped into his system. ‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll get a doctor to take a look at you and give you a chance to sleep.’ He shut his eyes as his stomach sank like lead, clenching hard and tight beneath his skin. ‘I’m just sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.’

Al shook his head, reaching out to close Ed's wrist in a hard grip, powerful enough to emphasise his words, but still weaker than normal. 'It was soon enough, and I’m not the only one who needs to see a doctor.’ He looked pointedly down at the road, where one of the puddles was turning faintly pink from Ed’s bloody knee. 'Don't think I'm going to let you ignore that, Brother.'

‘Some ambulances are on their way,’ Falman promised, straightening his shoulders as raised voices cut through the air. ‘I considered driving him straight to hospital myself, but I can’t take everyone.’ He jerked his head towards the house, and Ed looked over his shoulder, taking in the scene for the first time since he had stepped out beneath the open sky.

The road had been blocked off, and the civilian inhabitants were distant, pale spectators beyond the police cordons. A couple of police cars had been called in, and they were parked haphazardly, their flashing lights sending clots of colour dancing back and forth along the walls while people rushed about, trying to make sense of the chaos. Even the best laid plans fell apart once the chips were down. Injured soldiers and police littered the area, clutching bandages to bloodied wounds or nursing broken bones. However, even they were better off than the sheet-covered bodies lined up neatly on the pavement.

They were tucked out of sight of the spectators, guarded by a huddle of grim-faced police and soldiers, but even from this distance Ed could see that the bodies were not all disciples. Most were grey-robed, the victims of their beliefs, but a few gleaming black boots jutted out from beneath the shrouds, and blue and black uniforms told a story of loss.

‘How many?’ he asked quietly, looking up at Hughes. There was no doubt the man would know, and he watched him bow his head before taking a deep breath and summoning a response.

‘Four police officers and two soldiers: six in total compared to nine disciples, most of whom were shot.’

‘There were more than that,’ Al croaked, biting his pale lip as he craned his neck to see along the street. ‘Where are the rest of them?’

Hughes jerked his head towards the house, and Ed followed the motion to see Roy standing in front of Anders. Without his jacket and with rain slicking his white shirt to his skin, he looked nothing like the dignified general Ed knew. Even from this distance, Ed could see the angry set of Mustang’s jaw. Vicious hand movements underlined his every word, and Anders stood ramrod straight in front of him, frustration and apology warring for supremacy on her features.

‘They got away.’

No one confirmed Ed’s conclusion. They did not have to. He could read the situation well enough to make a guess about what had happened. Roy looked furious, exhausted and beaten down, while Anders kept shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders, gesturing to the house as she tried to explain herself.

Glancing at the garden, Ed winced at the gaping hole in the overgrown lawn. It lay comfortably between the ice house and the main building, consuming the ground that they had walked across only a short while ago. The ceiling collapse had brought down tonnes of soil and left dripping old pipes jutting like metal veins from the earth's rough edges. The hole was about nine feet across, and Ed would bet anything that the collapse had been enough to shake Anders' men from their guard posts.

Danner and the others had probably slipped out while the police rushed in to help their comrades, escaping away into the city, and Ed and Roy were slammed right back to square one. They had no idea why Danner was trying to bind people's souls, and no clue where the bastard was hiding or where he would strike next.

Ed sighed, bracing his weight against the gleaming body of the car as he straightened up, limping closer to Roy so that he could hear what they were saying. If Anders noticed his presence, she gave no sign of acknowledgement as she shook her head fiercely, stepping forward and jabbing a finger towards the bodies on the street.

'My men were my highest priority. As soon as we saw the garden begin to collapse, our focus changed. We had to recover the survivors. I left a skeleton watch on the perimeter and I did my job!' She let her hand fall back to her side as she looked at the wet ground. 'I realise that in doing so, I let those responsible get away, but you cannot ask me to regret my actions! Not everyone could get out by themselves, and if saving their lives meant delaying a capture –'

Roy sliced a hand through the air, shifting his weight forward and looming over the older woman. 'What if saving them leads to more victims? If you had stayed in position there's a chance you would have caught Danner and brought an end to this once and for all.'

'You suggest I let men die for nothing more than a chance?' Anders snapped. 'I had heard that you were one of the more compassionate generals, but if that's how you would have done it then I dread to think what other military commanders are like.'  
She took a deep breath, lifting her chin and meeting Mustang's eyes firmly. 'I don't regret my decision to put my men, and yours, first, but that does not mean I have given up the chase. A squad of dogs are already following the trail, and I've got a dozen police searching the nearby streets. If anyone saw anything, we'll know about it. That's the best I can do.'

Roy's right hand clenched around his brow, covering his eyes as his body shook with faint tremors. To anyone else, it might simply have looked like anger, but Ed could feel the bone-breaking exhaustion that was hauling on them. Dragging that array back under control had been too much. The bond allowed them to share the burden. If it were not for that, Ed had no doubt he would be unconscious and oblivious, too drained by what he had done to be aware of the waking world. Instead, he and Roy were lead-limbed but awake, even if they both wished for nothing more than a bed and a year's sleep.

'For everyone's sake, I hope your best is good enough,' Roy murmured at last, lifting his head up to the overcast sky before looking back at Anders. 'Talk to Lieutenant Hawkeye and take whatever men the military can spare. We'll care for your wounded at the hospital in Headquarters and get the engineers to stabilise the street. If you find anything of any significance, I want to know about it immediately.’

Anders nodded, turning away. She might be angry, but she had a good professional conscience, and Ed could see she thought Mustang's orders made sense. She quickly began to organise those able-bodied men that remained into a concise search pattern, liaising with Hawkeye as several ambulances pulled up, adding to the mess of coloured lights and bringing another wailing song to the discord that already filled the air. Medics leapt out of the vehicles, heading for the most obviously injured first, and Ed stepped out of their way, retreating to the car where Al waited with his head in his hands.

'Danner got away when the police rushed in to help the rest of us.' Ed sagged against the passenger door, giving up the fight to support his own weight. 'Fuck knows where the little shit is now. Anders is using dogs, but the rain's going to make it hard, and Danner's not stupid. He'll head for the river or a sewer – something like that.'

'You don't think he'll get out of here?' Al asked, and Ed glanced over to meet his little brother's foggy gaze. 'Flee the city and try to leave?'

'I thought that before, remember? Couldn't have been more fucking wrong if I tried.' Ed shook his head, staring unseeingly along the road towards the grim, urban horizon. 'No, the bastard won't go, not while there's something he wants in Central. Before, that was you.'

'What about now?'

Ed shrugged, trying not to flinch as Danner's screamed words echoed through his head. 'Down in the cellar, he told one of his disciples I was the only one they could use, since you weren't any good to him.' He shook his head, folding his arms and shifting his weight off his aching knee. 'Though if they can't break the bond without killing me and Roy, then they're fucked either way.'

Shrugging his shoulders, he stared blankly at a nearby puddle, watching its surface rippled as he confessed, 'I don't – I don't know, Al. I don't know why Danner's doing any of this, or why he's decided that it's you and me he really needs. This has been going on for days, weeks even, and we've still got no fuckin' answers.'

Slowly, he became aware of Al’s faint, puzzled frown. He knew the difference between general upset and a more focussed nervousness in his brother, and now Al was absently wringing his hands, studying the floor intently as if meeting anyone's eye was too much to bear.

‘Al, what do you know?’ Ed watched his brother’s head jerk up, his eyes narrowing as if in pain for a moment before he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

‘It’s just-’ Al looked wretched, like he did not want to say anything at all, but he soldiered on, dragging in a deep breath as he spoke. ‘I thought I heard one of the disciples say something about dad. I could have sworn I heard his name.' No doubt Al read something in the slackness of Ed's face, because he waved a dismissive hand, his words falling over each other. 'I might have imagined it, Brother. It's not exactly like I'm a reliable witness, is it?’

He wanted to believe it - that his father’s name had been in his little brother’s head, nothing more - but doubt sat like stone in Ed's chest. From the first time he had spoken with Danner, it had been obvious that all this revolved around him and Al. Right from the start, the priest had made it clear that he thought the two of them were the best targets for his alchemy, but the reason had always been frustratingly elusive. Neither of the abductions had given off overtones of a personal vendetta, there had always been a sense that there was a greater scheme at work. Knowing that his dad had some part to play was enough to make Ed's shoulder-blades itch with tension.

'Did they call you “My Lord”?' He scowled as Al nodded, knowing he would be just as unsettled by that strange title as Ed had been. 'It doesn't make sense. The fucker called me a martyr for the cause when he was trying to bind Roy, made it clear I'd be next, but he didn't mention Dad's name once. Why does he even care? The bastard's dead; no good to anyone now.'

Al lowered his voice, talking to his blanket-covered knees. 'Do you think they know what happened to Dad in Xerces? All that power, maybe Danner thinks we got a share?'

Ed lifted his hands to his face, feeling the cotton of his gloves rasp over his skin as he scrubbed miserably at his eyes, wishing he could find the one flash of inspiration that would throw this whole situation into light. 'I don't know, Al. Maybe that's got something to do with it, but unless we can catch Danner and get some answers, all we've got is guess-work.'

'And capturing Danner isn't likely.' Roy's voice, quiet as it was, still reached Ed's ears with ease, and he looked over to see him standing a short distance away. He looked as if he wanted to simply collapse to the ground, but that damn general's dignity was keeping his back straight and his head up. 'He's had more than enough experience at avoiding the police, and I can't order any of my men to help.'

'Why not?' Ed asked. 'At least if Hawkeye or Breda were out there looking, I'd have some hope we might get the git behind bars.'

Roy shook his head slowly. 'I can't spare anyone, not when neither of us is in a fit state to defend ourselves.' He cut Ed off with a hard, dark look. 'Don't argue, Ed. The bond doesn't lie. You can barely stand up, let alone fight; nor can Al for that matter. We're Danner's primary targets, and it would be stupid to expose ourselves, even if he is on the run.'

'Besides, the military's primary responsibility is to the citizens,' Hughes pointed out. 'We have to secure this street and make it safe again. If Roy sent his men off on a wild-goose chase, we would have the full attention of the high-ranking generals and far too many inconvenient questions.' He craned his neck, waving a hand to catch the attention of one of the medics. 'It's hard enough keeping them distracted from this mess as it is. The best thing would be to get the three of you seen to and back to Headquarters as soon as possible.'

Ed gritted his teeth. Now that Al was safe, torn free from Danner's clutches and in the capable care of Roy's men, the temptation to tear off after the priest and deal out some punishment chafed at him. There was so much to make the fucker pay for, not just Al, but all those who had come before him and suffered at Danner's hand.

Yet despite the whispered promises of violence in his mind, Ed knew that giving chase was a fantasy. There had been times in the past where he would have sprinted on with broken ribs and bleeding wounds, but not any more, not with the bond like a silken shackle between him and Roy. Besides, if all their research was right, then exposing himself meant that Roy's life would also be in danger, whether he was wrapped up safe in Headquarters or by Ed's side. There would have been a time when risking Mustang's life felt almost worth it to meet his own ends, but now...

Things had changed.

Ed stepped aside to let the medic pass, watching him bend down to examine Alphonse. The man did all the normal doctor-like things while Ed looked on, barely noticing what was happening as his mind continued to turn. He wanted to pretend it was the bond that made him want to keep Roy safe – it was the perfect excuse after all – but lying to himself was useless. He suspected that, even if it were not for the alchemy tying them together, the same protective urge would still make itself felt. Over the past few days, he had seen Roy in a new light, not just an inconvenient commanding officer – worthy of respect if not trust – but someone human and real. That simple awareness made everything different.

Of course, the bond was not blameless. He was sure that it was having some effect. Perhaps it did not command his actions entirely, but it had to have some influence. Why else did his fingers itch to reach out and touch Mustang's skin? Worse, his entire body hummed and glowed when in Roy's presence. Even now, burned out as he was, there was a background sensation of warmth and comfort, and he kept having to hold himself steady lest his feet shuffle closer of their own accord.

Before they had been bound to one another, Ed had never taken the time to notice Roy properly. Yet in a matter of days it felt as if the universe had undergone a subtle shift, and now Mustang was at its centre, filling Ed's awareness from one edge to the other. Even if he turned his back, he would still be able to sense him, burning as hot as the sun on his skin. It was inescapable, and with every day that passed, Ed grew more unsure whether he resented or welcomed its effects.

A doubtful sound from the medic grabbed Ed's wandering attention, forcing all his focus back on to Al as a surge of fear shot through his veins. 'What is it?' he demanded, frowning as the young man pushed up Al's sleeve to reveal a faint, red rash covering his arm. 'What's wrong with him?'

'I think it's a sensitivity to the drug he was given. If it weren't for this, I'd be happy to let him go.' The medic shrugged, stepping back and looking at Ed with earnest brown eyes. 'Best to keep him under observation at the military hospital, just for twelve hours or so – make sure it doesn't become anything more serious. You'll have to drive him. We don't have an ambulance to spare.' He gestured helplessly to the other wounded, and one of the vehicles peeled away, lights flashing as it headed the short distance through the city.

'That's not a problem,' Hughes replied, already turning around and pulling the car keys from his pocket. 'Roy, Ed, I'll take the two of you as well. It's probably best if someone checks you both over, and the sooner I can get you off the street, the better.' Green eyes swept around, and Ed watched Hughes' brow pull itself into a gentle frown. 'Danner could be anywhere, but he's unlikely to try and hide within the perimeter of Headquarters.'

He opened the driver's door, the heavy clank of the latch punctuating his sentence as Al shuffled over. Roy sat in the front next to Hughes, leaving Ed to sag into the corner of the back seat, his cheek pressed to the ice-cold pane of the window. Next to him, Al huddled deeper in his blankets, eyes drooping closed as he let out a gusty sigh. Suddenly, he jerked his head up again, his face pale with concern as he looked over at Ed.

'Is Havoc all right?' he asked, worry coating his words. 'I didn't even ask –'

'He's fine,' Ed interrupted. 'Probably got a headache, but the police didn't do any permanent damage.' He folded his arms, thinking of Havoc's desperate apology for letting the kidnappers snatch Al away. A thought occurred to him, and he looked across at his little brother. 'I don't suppose you know why one of them ended up dead in the ice house, do you? The cops, I mean.'

Al shook his head, drawing his knees up to his chest as the car began to move, drifting with peaceful purpose through the streets. 'No, they didn't say anything, just took me straight to the priest.' He rubbed at his injured wrist again, an absent gesture that made anger snarl in the pit of Ed's stomach, not at Al, but at the bastard who had dared to try and involve Alphonse in his dark alchemy. 'I wonder why it didn't work?'

For a moment, no one answered. That question still hovered, persistent and unavoidable in Ed's mind, and he jerked his head up when Roy spoke. 'Maybe has something to do with all the time you spent in armour. That alchemy affected your soul, didn't it? Perhaps it left something behind that meant Danner's efforts failed?'

The statement was perfectly logical, and Ed turned it over in his mind, examining the idea from different angles. 'That could also explain why the alchemy worked on me and Roy, but not you,' he muttered, letting his eyes drift closed. 'Guess the armour was good for something after all.'

'In that case, then it's because of what you did for me back then that Danner failed,' Al pointed out, smiling as Ed cracked open one eye. 'You protected me.'

Ed snorted quietly to himself. He should have known that Al would see it all in a good light, whereas all he could focus on was the fact he had almost been too late. If the alchemy had not gone wrong, he would have lost Al to the priest today. As far as Ed was concerned, that counted as a failure. 'It's my job to look after you,' he pointed out, opening his eyes and finding himself staring at the back of Roy's dark head. 'And I didn't do it on my own.'

Al followed his gaze, and when Ed looked back there was a faint, knowing smile on his little brother's lips. Al had always been able to read Ed effortlessly, and now he looked almost smug despite the shadows under his eyes.

Before Ed could question him, the car bumped over the perimeter of Headquarters. The soldiers waved them on as the looming presence of the command tower drew ever nearer, but they never pulled up outside the main doors. Instead Hughes swung the car around, bringing it to a halt close to the door of the military hospital before he switched off the engine and clambered out of the driver's seat.

The others followed suit with far less grace. Even a few moments of rest had caused Ed's muscles to cramp and his injured knee to lock up, and he bit back a curse as he almost pitched over onto the wet ground. Roy's hand on his elbow was the only thing that held him upright, and he frowned in annoyance as a dark blush tried to warm his cheeks.

'I'm okay,' he muttered when Roy did not let go. 'You don't have to help me inside.'

Roy gave him a bleak look of frustration, tight lines bracketing his mouth as he shifted his grip. 'Then you can help me instead. My knee's no better of than yours thanks to the bond. If you want to be stubborn and walk on it, then fine, but I don't think I can go much further.'

Ed narrowed his eyes, wondering whether Roy was telling the truth. In the end, there was not much choice but to believe him. Despite his protests, Ed was not certain he could make it into the hospital. At least this way he and Roy could prop each other up. Any dignity sacrificed was done so in equal measure, and it was as much of a compromise as either of them could bear.

'Fine,' Ed replied, trying to make it sound like a massive inconvenience as he looped an arm around Roy's waist, taking his weight on his good side while trying not to lean on him too heavily in return. 'Come on, old man. It's not far.'

Together they limped into the hospital, following Hughes and Al into the pristine corridors. There was no such thing as peace and quiet amidst these walls. There was always some soldier who had shot himself in the foot or become involved in a scuffle, and it was a few moments before a doctor noticed their small group.

Immediately, the doctor led the way down a long, brightly lit corridor, gathering information from Hughes as he went. Ed was too far away to hear what they were saying. Besides, he was struggling to keep his mind on putting one foot in front of another.

It should have been simple, but he kept getting caught up in the heavy presence of Roy at his side, his waist lean and hot with only Roy's wet shirt and Ed's sleeve to stop them from touching skin-to-skin. The array on Ed's wrist seemed to keen, not exactly aching, but eager for something, and Ed clenched his jaw as he looked at the floor, the ceiling – anywhere but at the man next to him.

It was a relief when the doctor finally brought them to a quiet room, with several chairs and one neat bed. He checked Al over with quick, competent hands, nodding and humming before putting a bedpan on the nearby table and gesturing for Al to lie down. 'You still look green around the gills, but your breathing is normal and there's no obvious swelling in response to whatever you've been given. We'll keep an eye on you, but the best thing you can do now is sleep. We'll see how you are in the morning.'

'Can you check his knee before you go?' Roy asked, gesturing to Ed from where he sat, rag-doll limp in one of the chairs. 'He'll tell you it's nothing, but it hurts like hell.'

Ed gave Roy a weak glare, certain that the doctor would not catch on to the strange way Roy phrased that request. To anyone else, there should be no way of knowing how much pain Ed was in, but the bond gave up his secrets to Roy without hesitation. The only consolation was that it was a two-way street.

However, other than a gash on his cheek, Roy seemed fine. Only the hollow ache of exhaustion echoed back to Ed, and he grudgingly rolled up his trouser leg to reveal the bloody mess of his right knee.

'It looks worse than it is,' he muttered when the doctor scowled at the injury, reaching for antiseptic and cotton wool as he set about cleaning away the blood and dust for a better look. Ed tried not to flinch as the astringent smell bit at his nose and stung his skin, waiting impatiently as the doctor worked. What he revealed was a small, deep cut in the centre of a black bruise, and Ed winced as the doctor lifted his leg, flexing the joint and catching the dribble of blood that seeped out.

'I don't think you've damaged anything critical,' the man said at last, pursing his lips and gently pressing the sides of the cut together. 'There's no debris left in there, and if there was serious bone damage you would not be able to move.' The doctor sat back on his heels, regarding Ed thoughtfully before he continued. 'Walk on it only when you have to, and keep any running or other high impact activities to a minimum. If you notice any swelling or additional pain, come back for an x-ray. Now, Brigadier-General – oh.'

Over by the doorway, Hughes gave a faint snort of laughter, and Ed craned his head to see past the doctor's shoulder.

Roy's eyes were closed, his head lolled back and his breathing already turning deep and steady. Once the adrenaline faded, there was nothing left to keep the exhaustion at bay, and Ed could feel its weight on his body and the bite of tiredness in his eyes. He knew, now that Roy had gone under, he would be asleep within minutes whether he liked it or not, but he forced himself to concentrate as Hughes spoke.

'I don't think he needs your attention, doctor, although a blanket for both him and Major Elric might be a good idea. I doubt either of them will be leaving?' His tone made it a question, and Ed shook his head in response. Even if he wanted to go back to his Spartan little room, all the more lifeless in Al's absence, he doubted he would be able to make it that far.

'I'll stay with Al, just in case.'

'Armstrong will be outside the door, along with a contingent of my men,' Hughes replied in a firm voice, his expression thoughtful as if he were already running through a dozen scenarios in his head. 'I doubt Danner will try anything tonight, but we can't afford to be careless. I'll keep things running smoothly while you and Roy get some rest.' Hughes straightened up, already turning towards the door as the doctor retrieved some blankets from a nearby cupboard and passed them over to Ed. 'Sleep well, and don't go anywhere on your own, understand?'

'We'll inform you straight away if we see any unusual patients or personnel, Lieutenant-Colonel,' the doctor promised as Ed nodded his weary agreement. 'They should be safe here.'

He turned to Ed, his young face fixed in a faint smile of concern. 'If you need anything or you notice any negative change in your brother's condition, then tell the staff. I'll make sure a nurse comes in to check on him every hour or so.'

With that, Hughes and the doctor both left, shutting the door behind them and leaving Ed alone in the flat, dull light of the hospital room. Al was motionless in the bed, curled up on his side, his lashes forming fans against his cheeks. He looked perfectly comfortable, which was more than could be said for Roy.

Easing himself upright, Ed limped a pace closer, trying to keep his eyes open as he spread a blanket over Roy and tucked it around his shoulders. The man's shirt was still damp, and the last thing either of them needed was to catch cold. There was nothing to prop Roy's head on, and Ed shrugged his way stiffly out of his jacket, hesitating a moment before wadding it up and gently lifting Roy's head. It was a poor pillow, cool and scented with rain, but it had to be better than nothing.

His fingers lingered briefly on Roy's skin, tickled by strands of dark hair and warmed by the hum of life beneath his palm. Before he could stop himself, his thumb swept softly over the line of Roy's cheekbone, and Ed swallowed tightly at the inappropriately intimate gesture. Mustang was his commanding officer, that was all. They were not even friends, not really, but it was as if his body craved Roy's presence like a drug. He wanted to be close – not just in the same room but at his side. Maybe that was the bond's fault, but somehow he doubted that the alchemy was responsible for the dark, sultry heat that dwelt in the pit of his stomach, or the way his heartbeat skittered about whenever Mustang so much as looked at him.

With an irritated huff, Ed dragged his hand away, hauling a blanket around his shoulders before curling up in the chair. He knew the signs of lust well enough – had felt those first stirrings about Mustang before – but back then they had been easy to ignore and over time they had faded to almost nothing. Now old phantoms were coming to life once more, and this time they were not so easy to dismiss.

Shifting his weight, Ed rested his head uncomfortably on the back of the thinly padded chair in which he sat, too tired to care that his aching body would punish him once dawn broke over the horizon. Brought low by the poignant mix of fear and relief that the day had thrown his way, he was almost too exhausted to breathe, and in seconds he slipped under to join Roy in sleep's dark cradle.


	14. Chapter 14

Roy woke with a jerk, ignoring the indignant howl of his cramped neck muscles as his instincts squealed a warning. Something alien had awoken him from a deep sleep, and now he narrowed his eyes at the apologetic nurse at Al's bedside. She did not look like one of Danner's disciples, or anyone else who might pose a risk, but appearances could be deceiving.

There was no sign of a weapon, only the clipboard and pen in her hand, and the woman made a quick note on Al's chart before glancing towards the clock. 'He's doing fine,' she murmured. 'I'm sorry for waking you. You should both try and go back to sleep.'

Without another word, she left the room, and Roy turned to see Ed in the chair set at right angles to his own. Unlike Roy, he had not moved an inch when he woke up, but those hunter's eyes were open and alert, fixed on the nurse's departing back like a wild animal watching a stranger leave its territory.

Roy knew the weight of that gaze well. There had been a time when Ed observed him with the same wary judgement, but now as Ed stretched his arms over his head, lax and pliable despite his uncomfortable bed, Roy realised those days were long gone. Body language alone made that clear. Ed was arching his back, exposing his throat and causing his black vest to ride up. A glimpse of pale gold skin flirted at the edge of the hem, and Roy struggled not to stare in fascination.

Part of him tried to point out that it was only flesh. Just because it belonged to Ed did not make it anything special, but his body did not want to believe the logic of his mind. The bond purred softly against his skin – full of sleeping power – but it had nothing to do with the overwhelming urge to reach out and stroke his fingers over the exposed line of Ed's waist. It called to him, beckoning, and Roy swallowed tightly as he gripped the arms of the chair in a firm, white-knuckled grip.

He was being ridiculous: unguarded in the first moments of waking and victim to his body’s more basic needs, but that did not mean he had to give in. The truth was that he had spent too much time in Ed’s company these past few days, and this was the result: familiarity, trust, something like friendship. He had worked long and hard to convince himself that Ed was little more than a bratty yet attractive boy, despite evidence to the contrary. Now the facts were mounting up against him, and what had once been faint, easily dismissed desires were gathering strength, inexorably drawn to Ed’s volatile and unfettered nature.

'You all right?'

Ed’s voice was rough in a way that sent prickles of heat racing over Roy's skin, and he blinked, realising that he was still staring helplessly in Ed’s direction. The last, faint whisper of adrenaline from his rude awakening vanished beneath the warm tide, and Roy cleared his throat as he tore his eyes away, choosing to look at the floor rather than meet that too-knowing gaze.

‘I’m fine.’ It sounded like a platitude, but Roy realised that his statement was not far from the truth. After the events of Al’s rescue he expected to feel battered and bruised, slammed down by the power of the alchemy that had coursed through him only hours before, but instead he felt the same as he did any other morning: a little stiff, perhaps, and chilled from sleeping in damp clothes, but otherwise unchanged.

Only his knee ached: a sullen pain that droned on, incessant and uncomfortable. It was a reminder that Ed had not escaped the town house equally unscathed, and he narrowed his eyes at the young man. He was sprawled with inelegant grace in the hospital chair, seemingly relaxed. He could not have been any more comfortable in his impromptu bed than Roy had been, yet he made it look as if soft, plump cushions supported his lithe body, rather than pathetic pieces of disintegrating sponge. His metal arm shone in the hazy fluorescent lights of the hospital room, and Roy could see the goose bumps that dappled Ed’s bare forearm from where he sat.

‘Where’s your jacket?’ he asked, cursing himself for getting so caught up in the sight of Ed’s skin that he had not noticed that Ed wore nothing but his vest and trousers, with a thin blanket piled in his lap for warmth.  
  
‘Behind your head,’ Ed replied, giving him a faintly amused look. ‘You passed out when the doctor was looking at my knee. Thought I’d save us both from a horribly stiff neck when we woke up.’

For the first time, Roy took in the specifics of his makeshift bed. He could remember escaping the town house and helping Ed into the hospital under the guise of being too weak himself. He vaguely recalled sitting in the chair and ordering the doctor to look at Fullmetal's knee, but after that the wolves of exhaustion must have descended upon him.

‘Thank you. I must have been exhausted. I didn’t even dream,’ he said quietly, digging behind his back and retrieving Ed’s jacket from where it had slipped before handing it back. ‘At least, not that I remember.’

‘Maybe the dream-sharing thing was a fluke, just the bond messing with us until it stabilised.’ Ed shrugged on his jacket, tugging the tangle of his ponytail free of his collar before he met Roy’s gaze. ‘Though it’s not exactly like either of us got a full night’s sleep tonight. Maybe we just didn’t get the chance to dream anything.’

He jerked his head towards the clock on the wall, and Roy grimaced at the time: almost two in the morning. He could not quite recall what time it had been when they had staggered into the hospital, but he was sure he could not have gained more than six hours' sleep. That, coupled with the shattered slumber of the previous night should not have provided enough rest, yet he felt alert and aware, as if he were running on all cylinders.

‘We should both still be tired,’ he pointed out, looking over Ed’s face and seeing nothing to indicate the younger man was suffering: there were no dark circles or weary lines, only a bright complexion and a fresh rasp of stubble across his chin. ‘How are we able to keep going on so little sleep?’

Ed shrugged, his eyes coming to rest on Al’s lax countenance. ‘Fuck knows. It’s probably the bond, just like everything else. It shares our tiredness, so why not our energy, too?’

Roy winced as his stomach let out a loud roar, trying not to laugh when Ed’s answered with equal ferocity. ‘Looks like that’s not the only thing it’s sharing,’ he muttered, rubbing a hand over the gnawing ache in his belly as he craned his neck to see through the window in the door. Armstrong must have left to get some rest, but several of Hughes’ men stood sentry, protective and alert.

‘They won’t let us go and get breakfast,’ Ed warned. ‘I think Hughes told them not to let us leave.’

‘Then one of them can fetch us something,’ Roy decided. ‘I can’t wait until Hughes shows up to get some food in me. I can’t remember if I ate lunch, but I _know_ I didn’t have any dinner.’

Stiffly, he got to his feet, mindful of Al still sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed as he limped across the room and eased open the door. The soldiers on the other side observed him with the carefully neutral expressions of people who had been in uniform all their lives. Hughes chose his men with care, and Roy knew that they would carry out his friend's orders regardless of the rank of the person trying to countermand them. If Hughes had told them to keep him and Ed in Al's hospital room, then they would be unflinching in their resolve.

'Could someone get us some food, please? The canteen's not far, and if they're closed some bread from the kitchen will do.' He pointedly ignored the very audible growl of his own stomach as one of the younger soldiers saluted and left his post, marching with quiet speed along the corridor and out of sight.

'Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes said to tell you he would be back at six a.m., sir,' one of the other men said. 'He requests you wait here where it's safe until then.'

'I take it there has been no update on the situation in Elm Street?' Roy asked, leaning against the threshold and folding his arms as he waited for an answer. He trusted his command, as well as Hughes, to keep things flowing smoothly, but that did not stifle the desire to be out there himself. If he was in the thick of the investigation then at least he knew he would be well-informed. Being shunted to one side for his own safety may be essential, but that did not mean he was happy with the situation.

'Nothing to report, sir. The house has been declared stable and is being searched for anything to assist the investigation, but so far no one's been captured.'

With a sigh, Roy nodded his understanding, looking up in surprise as the soldier who had gone to fetch food arrived with two trays: bread, butter, cold meats and best of all, a steaming pot of coffee.

'Hope this will do, sir.' He handed the trays over to Roy's grabby hands before returning to his post, as stoic as ever.

Roy's mouth started to water, eager for the simple fare, and he knew that Hughes' men had probably told him all they were willing to say. 'Thank you. Let me know if there are any further developments.' Without waiting for an answer he turned away, nudging the door shut with his foot before passing one of the meals to Ed.

'I'm guessing you heard all that?' he asked as he settled back in the chair, straightening his right leg out with a wince before meeting Ed's gaze. 'No Danner, no disciples, and we're to stay here until Hughes comes back.'

Ed shrugged, taking a massive bite out of a bread roll and speaking with his mouth full. 'It's not like I'm going to leave Al here, anyway,' he pointed out. 'Just because Danner doesn't think he's useful doesn't mean he won't get caught in the crossfire.'

'Or used as bait,' Roy murmured, feeling the sudden tense anger galvanise Ed's body nearby. 'If I was Danner, that's what I'd do.

'You're not Danner,' Ed snapped, dropping his voice to a hiss as Al stirred in his bed. 'He's a fucked up psycho priest and you're... not.'

It was hardly a glowing evaluation, and Roy barely managed to keep the pained wince off his face at Ed's words. Perhaps something trickled back along the bond, or maybe Ed was just getting better at choosing his words, because he shook his head viciously.

'You know what I mean, Mustang. You've seen Al and me together for years, and you know how to make me do what you want. Danner doesn't.'

Roy reached for the coffee pot, trying to keep his hands steady as he poured them each a mug. 'You hope he doesn't. Let's face it, Ed: that priest is not your average idiot alchemist. He knows what he's doing; he's a scientist at heart. You only have to look at what he did to the others to see that.'

'A religious scientist.' Ed's tone made it clear exactly what he thought of that combination, and in the silence of Roy's head he had to agree. Either faith or science on its own could be dangerous in the wrong hands, but mix the two in someone like Danner and the results were chilling. Blind devotion to a cause blended with analytical intelligence was a recipe for disaster.

'Even worse,' Roy muttered, handing Ed some coffee before taking a sip of his own. 'There's a chance he could be unpredictable, and without more solid facts to work on, we're as lost as we were when this all started.'

'Not if I can help it.'

Roy glanced up at that, allowing himself a moment to take in Ed's expression. After rescuing Al, he had seemed defeated, as frustrated and baffled as Roy by Danner’s motives and escapes, but now he was like a dog with the scent. Despite outward appearances, Ed was not completely relaxed in that chair; his body was coiled and ready for whatever the day threw his way, and Roy had learned to both respect and fear that edgy gleam in Ed's eyes.

Where other people would give up – throw in the towel out of frustration and despair — Ed would charge on ahead, hurling all the force of his body and mind at a problem. More to the point, Roy could feel the weight of Ed’s conviction, not just on the bond but in the air, and he could sense it beginning to influence his own mood, solidifying his resolve and galvanising his anger at Danner’s riddles and trickery.

Sleep-warm muscles began to tighten with restless energy, and his eyes flickered towards the clock almost on their own as his brow scowled at the time. Hughes' orders to stay put had seemed protective only a few minutes ago, but now they were an imprisonment, chafing at Roy's nerves. He knew that feeling was coming from Ed, and was equally aware that it was not respect for anyone's commands that kept him within these four walls. It was Al's sleeping presence in the hospital bed.  
  
As soon as Alphonse received a clean bill of health, Roy knew there would be nothing to hold Ed back. He would leap into action, and fear clenched a fist around Roy's heart as he considered the possibilities. His mind travelled the well-worn path of memories, examining Ed's behaviour in the past, but it was no good. If there was one thing Roy hated, it was being unable to predict a consequence or outcome, and lately Ed had the habit of doing the last thing Roy expected.

'What are you planning?' he asked, not bothering to keep his voice clear of dread's low notes. 'You can't go running through the city looking for him – not without putting yourself in danger.'

'I fuckin' know that.' Ed rolled his shoulders, taking a big gulp of coffee. 'Normally I wouldn't give a shit about being safe, but I've got you to think of, now. Besides, it'd be like chasing a ghost. Danner's too smart to catch.' He shook his head, wincing as he stretched out his legs in front of him and slumped lower in the chair. 'I need to talk to Scieszka about that book. If my dad's involved in this somehow, then it's probably written down in there.' He grimaced, clearly angered at his father's influence still casting its shadow on his life. 'Wonder what the old git's done this time.'

Roy knew that Ed's respect for Hohenheim was almost non-existent. In Ed's eyes nothing could make up for the fact that his father had walked out on them, leaving his wife to die and his sons to face the disaster of their future alone. Yet somehow, Roy could not imagine that Danner and Hohenheim's paths had ever crossed.

'He might be as much a victim of this as you are,' he pointed out quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the slick black glimmer of the coffee in his cup as he felt Ed's gaze bite into him. 'Your father was a smart man, and even if he did ever meet Danner, I doubt he'd have viewed him with anything but disdain.'

Clearly Ed did not share that certainty, because he shuffled his shoulders again. 'We'll see. You heard what Danner said: it's me he wants now. Knowing why would be a good start.'

Roy scowled, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he remembered what he had heard of the priest's shouted words down in the cellar. Desperation had filled his tone, like a man whose plans were falling apart before his eyes, and Roy knew how dangerous that could make people.

Setting his half-empty mug down at his feet, he stared at his gloved hands, finally voicing the hard truth that had haunted his mind since they had left Elm Street. 'If he wants you for himself, then he'll break the bond the same way he did for the others. He'll kill me if he can.'

He sensed Ed stiffen in the chair, and looked up in surprise to see the flat, determined rejection in Ed's face. 'I won't fuckin' let him,' he growled, and there was more anger in those words than Roy could even begin to understand. 'He's been murdering people like they mean nothing. We'll get to him before he tries again. Besides, in four out of the five experiments, slaughtering one of the bond mates made the other one die. He's not going to rush into that kind of risk if he really needs me.' Ed snorted. 'Assuming I'm no good to him as a corpse, that is.'

Roy glanced at the clock, feeling far too tightly-wound to go back to sleep. Talking to Ed about Danner resolved nothing, and only increased the churning ache of fear in his gut. He could not even untangle it enough to work out if he was concerned for his own safety or Ed's, but either way it did not really matter. Danner would not get his hands on either of them. Even if he managed to somehow get through the vast bastions of the military's security – even if he managed to get past Hawkeye, Hughes and the others – he would still have both Ed and Roy to contend with, and neither of them were about to go down without a fight.

'With any luck, the police or Hughes and his men will find something useful in the house. Disciples cannot live there for months without leaving something behind.' His voice sounded pathetically hopeful to his own ears, but he ignored it as he slumped back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. 'I don't expect they'll catch anyone for questioning, but you never know.'

'Somehow I doubt they'd say anything even if we did get one of them. They were dying for Danner down there,' Ed pointed out. 'They're not going to give him up easily.'

'Not to a soldier or the police, perhaps, but you... that could be another matter. After all, why are they calling you “My Lord” if they don't respect you?' Roy asked. 'You might find out that their regard for you exceeds their loyalty to the priest.'

Ed shuddered visibly, and though Roy knew some of it was an exaggeration for his benefit, the underlying distaste was still there. Fullmetal had never been the kind of man to tolerate blind respect and devotion; to find himself the recipient of that must be more than a little disturbing. 'Don't think enough of me to have second thoughts about using me in their games though, do they? Didn't hesitate over Al, either.'

Ed folded his arms over his chest, scowling faintly in the direction of his little brother's bed before looking out towards the corridor, shoulders rounded as he cleared his throat. 'I forgot to say thanks, earlier. For what you did with the array. It could've killed you, but you did it anyway.'

A tiny frisson of surprise at Ed's gratitude shot through Roy's body, and he raised an eyebrow as he considered Ed's words. He had not even thought of his own safety. In fact, he was not entirely sure that helping Ed had even been a conscious decision. His body had just moved, putting itself forward as a shield and pressing its palms to the array. All that had mattered in that moment was being by Ed's side, as close as possible, and he had blindly obeyed the clamour of that instinct.

'You needed help,' Roy said quietly, allowing himself a faint smile at Ed's vaguely affronted look. 'Besides, it was like I already knew what to do... what was needed. Ever since we were bound together, my alchemy's been changing. Before you thought it had something to do with seeing the gate, but did that change the way you thought about transmutations – the way you come up with new designs and ideas?'

Too late, Roy realised how sensitive a question that might be, but rather than showing defensive anger, Ed's expression was thoughtful, as if he was giving it honest consideration.

'I dunno, it was a long time ago. Can't remember much of my life before it all, really.' He shifted in the chair, his brow dipping into a puzzled frown. 'Though I guess I always thought about arrays and alchemy and all the science behind it in the same way. Al used to go through it all, step by step, but for me it was always just –' He made a vague gesture with his left hand. 'Right there. Sometimes it feels like I don't learn new arrays, I just remember them instead.'

Roy settled back in his chair, allowing the relaxed, thoughtful tone of Ed's voice to wash over him. Clearly Ed gained comfort in talking about alchemy, and it gave Roy the opportunity to remember a time when his abilities, rather than his career had been his passion. Before the military caught him up in its mass of ranks and webs of intrigue, he had adored alchemy. It had been easy to find joy in its practice, whereas now it was more a means to an end. With Ed, that pleasure at the simple blossom of power had clearly never been usurped.

Time slipped away as they spoke, cocooned in the sterile warmth of Al's hospital room and unaware of night slowly beginning to soften with dawn's first light. For the second time in forty-eight hours, Roy found himself enraptured in Ed's company. The conversation flowed naturally, and it was as enjoyable as it was educational. He had learned more about Ed in the past couple of days than in years of working together, and although his mind whispered words of caution about giving too much away and eroding the boundaries of their professional relationship, Roy found himself happily giving in to the equivalent exchange, telling Ed as much in return as Ed himself divulged.

A tap on the door cut Roy off mid-sentence, and he looked up to see Hughes standing on the threshold. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was almost five a.m. Hughes' early arrival, coupled with the grim triumph on his face was enough to make Roy lean forward in his chair, instantly attentive.

Hughes kept his voice low in deference to Al, who still slept blissfully in the bed, and spoke quickly, no doubt eager to impart his news. 'We've finished searching the house, and we found plenty of interesting evidence. Not only further documentation, but some personal effects of the previous victims. We already have enough to incriminate Danner twice over, but every little bit is another nail in his coffin.'

'What kind of documentation?' Roy asked, trying to read his friend's expression. Hughes could use a smile, a grin or a grimace as a mask as easily as Roy could leave his face impassive when necessary, but now there was no need to play tricks with emotions, and he watched Hughes rub a hand along his jaw, his lips curving at the corners.

'Useful stuff, I hope. A lot of the disciples had pamphlets in their footlockers. It looks like they are Amestrian translations of the core ideas in that book you found: _The Saffron Soul_. They have the same words on the covers.' Hughes leaned back against the wall, some of the tension in his body visibly draining away. 'No one's read them, yet. I didn't know what they might find, and I'm slightly concerned about Danner's ability to convince otherwise trusted people to join his cause.'

Roy lifted a questioning eyebrow as a chilly thought trickled through his mind. 'You think he might be brainwashing people?'

Hughes shrugged. 'Perhaps. Convincing propaganda is a good way to start. I just didn't want to take unnecessary risks. I can't afford to lose good men to that priest's ideals. He's already hurt enough people.' Green eyes flickered quickly in Ed's direction, and Roy could see the sympathy there. While there may be an undeniably personal slant to Danner's actions, it was easy to forget that the prior victims had been more than just strangers to Ed.

'Anyway, all the copies we found are in the office for you to look at. We also found a few personal documents for the priest, including some fake identity papers and his birth certificate, probably genuine.' Hughes lifted his glasses, rubbing at the shadows under his eyes before resettling his spectacles on the bridge of his nose. 'My men are collating all the information they can find relating to his false names. They'll bring it to your office when they're done. We'll see what he's been up to for the past few years.'

Roy leaned back, feeling a brief tide of relief; it seemed they were finally starting to get somewhere. 'So Elm Street was his base then? It must have been, if there was so much personal information there. Neutralising it might have been more strategically important than I realised.'

Green eyes watched Roy without blinking, and a faint frown marred Hughes' brow. 'Speaking of strategy, you need to start thinking three steps ahead – not just of Danner but the brass. People have been asking questions, and I don't think it will be long before generals are turning up at your office.'

Roy grimaced, rubbing his fingertips against his temple thoughtfully. The last thing he needed was the high ranking officers beginning to interfere. Trusting his men was one thing, but he had no faith in the army's generals. Most saw soldiers as cannon-fodder and cared more for military advantage than human lives. He needed to keep the waters muddy.

'How long before they're knocking on my door. Days, a week?'

'More like hours.' Hughes shrugged in apology, but they both knew Roy needed the facts. 'They know you've had a long night and will be looking to catch you with your guard down.' He straightened up, his gaze turning critical as he looked Roy up and down. 'I sent your men to rest about an hour ago and told them to be in your office by nine. You might want to get there a bit earlier. Shower, shave and work out what the hell you're going to tell the brass about what happened at Elm Street. They might have ignored the rest of it, but they tend to notice when a large hole appears in a residential area.'

Roy smiled, knowing that Hughes' words were not so much orders as a request for reassurance. He needed to know that Roy was up to the job of protecting them all from the inquisitive generals in Central and beyond. 'I'll tell them what they need to hear,' he replied with a faint grin, getting to his feet and folding the blanket before dropping it in the empty chair. 'Get some rest, Hughes. You can leave things to me.'

Hughes’ grin was sun-bright, chasing away the shadows that lined his face and making him seem years younger. ‘I know I can. I’ll be in your office by lunch time.’ He rubbed a tired hand over his face before glancing at the clock. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to your rooms. At least that way I know you’re safe.’

‘I’ll stay here until Al’s allowed to leave,’ Ed added. ‘I’m guessing they’re not going anywhere?’ He jerked his head towards the soldiers outside the door, and Roy saw the resignation in his eyes as Hughes shook his head. ‘I’ll talk to Scieszka and take a look at those leaflets as soon as Al’s back on his feet.’

There was no arguing with Ed on that score, and Roy would not dream of even trying. Ed’s priorities were set in stone, and railing against them was as useless as trying to knock over a cliff. Still, that did not stop a sensation of something like loss from twinging in Roy’s gut as he turned away and walked after Hughes’ departing back.

The feeling only intensified as the distance between him and Ed grew, exacerbated by that now familiar itch of interference on the bond. Part of Roy keened with dramatic desperation to turn around and dash back to Ed’s side, but he stifled it ruthlessly. He was being ridiculous. The days when lust brought him so low and needy were long gone, consigned happily to his past. He was far too dignified to be at the mercy of any inappropriate emotions. Besides, duty came first. Nothing could change that: not the bond, and not Ed.

Pursing his lips, Roy frowned to himself, realising that his own mind was betraying him. He was starting to think of Ed in a different way, beyond the realm of subordinate or even friend. Where he had once stood on the sidelines, the sun in Roy’s sky, but distant all the same, he was now right _there_ — burning his way into Roy’s every thought and decision as if he were the most important thing in the world. He had become integral, and Roy could not help but wonder when it had stopped feeling like an intrusion and started to feel… right.

‘You’re going to give yourself wrinkles again if you keep scowling like that,’ Hughes said mildly, stifling a yawn behind his hand as they ambled out of the military wing and into the empty straight lines of Headquarters’ corridors. ‘You all right?’

Roy nodded, glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder to check they were alone before he muttered, ‘Just trying to deal with the bond. It’s — it just has some unexpected effects.’

Hughes slowed down, matching Roy’s pace and scrutinising him with care. ‘You’re not ill or something, are you?’

Shaking his head quickly, Roy did his best to dispel his friend’s instant concern. ‘I’m probably better off than the rest of you. Well-rested despite only a few hours of sleep, for a start.’ He shrugged, rubbing a hand through his hair. ‘I just wish I had a definitive idea of what the bond is doing to us. It would be good to know where its influence stops and my own thoughts begin.’

He could tell from Hughes’ silence that, despite his tiredness, that intelligent mind was running at full speed inside his friend’s head. Asking him for assistance was always a two-edged blade, and now Roy found himself uncomfortably tense as Hughes finally spoke.

‘You're worried it's making you feel things that aren't true?’ Curiosity was light in his tone, but Roy still knew a dangerous turn in the conversation when he heard it. Hughes never asked anything in idleness, and Roy shot him a dark, knowing look as Hughes shrugged. ‘To me, you've not changed. You still act the same way as always. If I didn't know about the bond, I wouldn't believe that anything else could be influencing you.'

He patted Roy sympathetically on the shoulder as a faint, worried smile curved his lips. 'Try not to think about it for now. You deal with the higher ups, and let Ed figure out what’s going on with the bond. If anyone’s going to find the answers you’re looking for, then it’s him.’

Roy came to a halt outside the door to his rooms, groping in his pocket for the keys before slipping them into the lock. ‘I know. I don’t doubt his abilities for a second, or his determination for that matter. It’s just…’ He sighed as Hughes raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to finish, but the words seemed to wedge themselves in his throat, refusing to be spoken. He wanted to know if life could ever go back to the way it had been — if he and Ed could ever reclaim that distance or if they would always be closer now, dragged into one another’s orbit by the pull of Danner’s alchemy — but how could he voice that when he was not sure which answer he would prefer?’

‘Never mind,’ he said at last, smiling as Hughes rolled his eyes. ‘Go. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.’

‘A couple of my men will be here in a minute to keep an eye on you.’ He held up a hand to cut off Roy’s complaints. ‘Discreet observation, that’s all. I could get away with blatant guards on Al’s hospital room, but I don’t want to make too many waves in Headquarters. Just — don’t get careless, all right?’

Roy nodded, bidding his friend a quiet farewell as he let himself into his suite. With Hughes’ warning fresh in his mind, it was logical to check each of the rooms in turn. Nothing stirred in the gentle shadows nor struck him as out of place. It was exactly how he had left it yesterday morning, right down to the spill of blankets on the couch where he and Ed had slept.

With a huff, Roy turned towards the bathroom, peeling out of his rain-crisped clothes as he twisted the shower taps. His gloves were the last thing that he removed, and he left them within easy reach as he stepped under the water’s spray. Just like the day before, tense muscles seemed to unravel, and his skin seemed to resonate with the cascade’s beat. Nerves hummed in pleasure, and he allowed himself to linger for a few minutes, taking the time to enjoy the simple delight of warmth and cleanliness.

However, he could not remain in the bathroom forever, not if he wanted to be alert and commanding behind his desk when the generals came calling. Reluctantly, he stepped out, his toes curling against the cool tiles as he turned off the taps and reached for a towel. Drying, shaving and dressing were all perfunctory and done with habit’s speed. By the time Roy’s uniform shrouded his body once more and his gloves caressed his palms, the fullness of dawn was just starting to break over the horizon.

In Roy’s experience, most of the brass had not seen the day’s first faint blush in years, but if Hughes was right then he would rather be safe than sorry. Besides, there was no denying that the common, everyday duties of paperwork would pile up in his absence. As much as he loathed it, falling behind was only going to raise more suspicion. If avoiding that meant getting into work early and leaving late, then it was a sacrifice worth making. The alternative — that the brass discovered what Danner had done to him and Ed, would be catastrophic, not just to them personally, but to the future of the military.

So little of what had occurred over the past few days was within Roy’s control, but dealing with the generals was something that was his responsibility alone, and it was not one he was about to shirk. His muffled footsteps turned sharp as he exited his suite and stepped out into the corridor. A quick glance showed that Hughes had kept his word. Roy did not have an overt escort, but he was being watched. All the way to the office he felt the burden of their surveillance, but it was only once he was shut away in the familiar confines of his domain that he felt anything like safe.

Looking over the desks and chairs, the dirty mugs in the sink and drifts of paper that had fallen to the floor like snow, Roy knew exactly what his first job would be. If he wanted to throw any generals off the scent before they even spoke to him, then he had to make sure that the office looked efficient. Disarray would give the impression of panic and confusion, and that was the last thing Roy needed to convey.

He set about tidying up as quickly as he could, finding something like comfort in the mundane chores. Mugs were rinsed and dried, files were slipped into their rightful home, desks were cleared with a few dossiers left strategically in place: after all, he wanted the place to be neat, not empty. The last thing any of them needed was more work dumped on their heads.

At last he came to a small box on Hawkeye’s desk. The cardboard was beaten and ripped, and inside were three dog-eared pamphlets. They were tatty and worn, the ink smudged a little on their covers, but Roy knew instantly that these were the translations of the book that Scieszka had been working on. Of course, it would be propaganda, probably only giving half the story, but the need for knowledge guided his hand. Even a few sparse facts were better than nothing.

Picking up the top copy, he replaced the lid and moved through to his office, lighting the fire with an absent-minded snap of his fingers before settling in his office chair. A small stack of urgent files sat on the corner, waiting for his attention. He hesitated a moment before dragging one closer and opening its pages. At least that way if anyone walked in it would look like he was working on military paperwork.

He was just about to open the front cover when something made him pause, and he squinted closer at the grubby cream cover before reaching out and flicking on his desk lamp. Instantly, the waxy sheen on the surface became more obvious, and Roy felt suspicion prickle down his spine. It could simply be an attempt at waterproofing, but there was something subtly wrong about the pamphlet. Faint instincts were whispering their warnings in his mind, and after a moment’s thought he carefully pushed the piece of paper away.

When he had mentioned brainwashing to Hughes, he had not given a great deal of credit to his own idea, but now he was beginning to suspect that there was something more sinister than mere words contained within the pages. He was not about to open it up before giving the cover a more intense examination, but now was not the time.

A glance at the clock made him grimace, and Roy let out a tight sigh of frustration as he slipped the pamphlet into the drawer of his desk before grabbing the stack of files and beginning his work in earnest. The fire popped and crackled as Roy set to work, placing his signature when required. More than once his eyes wandered towards the drawer that hid the booklet from view, but every time the questions arose anew, he distracted himself. The bitter taste of the office coffee was a punishment of sorts, but he swallowed it back anyway, only hesitating when sounds from the outer office suggested he was no longer alone.

A quiet tap on the door confirmed his original assumption that it was Hawkeye, and he glanced at the clock, feeling no surprise that she was in thirty minutes earlier than the time she had been ordered to return. The lieutenant was completely presentable, unmarked by what had undoubtedly been a long night. She nodded a quick greeting before picking up some of the finished files.

‘General Chance is on his way, sir,’ she informed him, her expression not revealing a flicker of emotion as Roy allowed himself to raise a curious eyebrow. ‘He should be here in a few minutes.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant. Please discourage any talk of what happened at Elm Street while the general is in the office. It may only cloud the issue.’ His warning was unnecessary, at least for Hawkeye, but Roy still felt better for having said it. He knew his men were hard-working and loyal — but it was painfully easy to let something slip and plant the seed of doubt in fertile ground.

Roy sat back in his chair, allowing himself a few moments to think. The nature of the military hierarchy was such that, although he had a direct superior in General Marlow, others of a high rank could demand information from him at any time. Whether he gave Chance the truth or not was another matter entirely. Generals and their subordinates were always trapped in a mess of in-fighting, squabbling within a web of guesswork and supposition as they tried to trick one another with lies. It was competition rather than cooperation, probably designed to keep the highest ranks busy and leave the Fuhrer unchallenged.

Personally, Roy found it distasteful. He and Marlow worked on a need-to-know basis. He decided what the general needed to know, and Marlow accepted it. However, there was no such trust from Chance. Roy's best method of attack would be as close to honesty as he dared. Chance was expecting a lie, and catching him out with an almost-truth would probably be his best shot at leaving the general as clueless as he was when he came in.

Roy looked up as he heard the smoker’s growl of Chance’s voice in the outer office, and he schooled his features into a look of surprised respect, rising from his seat to give a perfect salute as the general marched past Hawkeye and seated himself in the armchair near the fire.

‘Sir, I wasn’t expecting -’

‘Quiet, Mustang,’ Chance snapped. He was a big man — not tall but broad — and he always gave Roy the impression of barely contained ferocity. ‘You’ve got eyes everywhere. Probably knew I was coming here before I did. What are you up to?’

Roy allowed his expression to take on a hint of confusion at that accusation. ‘Sir?’

Dark eyes glared at him over the intervening distance, and Chance twitched his nose in irritation. ‘Don’t play games. I won’t tolerate it. You’re always up to something, and God alone knows why Marlow gives you such a long leash. Not that he’s ever had much sense.’ The general folded his arms, his voice becoming a bark. ‘Tomas Danner, Elm Street. Dead soldiers, police — civilians. Start talking.’

It was second nature for Roy to allow his expression to flow from confusion to grudging respect, allowing it to blend into a brief glint of cunning before resignation slid across his features. Years of practice made it a flawless performance, and he allowed his shoulders to slump just a fraction, giving the impression of dignified defeat.

'We are assisting the police with their investigation into the Cut-Throat Killer case. I believe the Fuhrer has already seen and counter-signed on the official request for help from the civilian forces.' The casual reminder of the military's highest authority was enough to wipe the patronising look of Chance's face, and he harrumphed in agreement before motioning for Roy to continue.

'Danner is a dangerous alchemist, one with uncertain connections to the military. He appears to have started some sort of religious following, and Elm Street was their –' He waved a hand uselessly, searching for the right word. 'Base? Headquarters? Place of worship? There was evidence they had been staying there some time.'

Chance watched him, sharp eyes narrowed as he rubbed his hand over his jaw. 'The old Caticutt place.'

Roy nodded, even though it was not really a question, wondering how much of his ignorance on that particular connection he dared to reveal. 'We're not sure how he came to know the property was empty, sir, but there's evidence he forced his way in. He proceeded to ambush the force when they were trying to apprehend him and the resulting alchemy caused a structural collapse.'

Quickly, Roy checked over that last statement in his head again, pleased with the clinical truth of it. It was honesty without embellishment, and all the important things were left utterly unsaid. However, Chance was not as forgiving as Marlow, nor was he a man to be underestimated, and Roy saw the growing storm of his annoyance in the flush that gathered in his fat cheeks. It took all of his control not to give a guilty wince as Chance leaned forward and snatched the poker from the fireside, releasing a glut of sparks as he stabbed and clanged it around the grate, tormenting the flames higher.

'Very good, Mustang. You've told me everything and at the same time bugger all.' Chance whipped the poker around, jabbing it towards Roy pointedly to emphasise his words. 'I don't want to know what, I want to know _why_. Why are _you_ the one helping the police? Everyone else thinks it's just coincidence, but I damn well know better by now. Nothing you do is ever an accident. There's always a purpose, and I'll bloody well find out what it is!'

Roy lifted his chin, feeling a flash of hot, volatile temper arc through his veins. Grabbing his patience was like clutching at straws and, behind his back, Roy's gloved hands clenched into aching fists. He could feel the bond like a wire around his wrist, as much of a brat as the young man on the other end of it. It chafed and sparked with powerful promise, but Roy ignored it, keeping his expression carefully bland and his voice void of anything but innocence.

'The police requested the assistance of myself and my men, especially Major Elric, and I was happy to assist in the hopes of bettering the relations between the military and the civilian security force. It's a wish that Fuhrer Hakuro has made public more than once.'

'A vapid platitude,' Chance snapped, rising to his feet and dropping the poker to the hearth with a resounding clatter. It singed a hole in the rug and filled the air with the scent of burnt wool, but the general ignored it as he whirled around. 'Don't think you're fooling anyone, Mustang. Not for one second. I've been in the military too long to fall for your games.'

He stalked towards the door, broad shoulders held rigid. 'I had hoped you would have the sense and respect to tell someone of higher rank the truth, but clearly not. I tire of your excuses.' He grabbed the door handle and looked over his shoulder, his face dark with anger and suspicion. 'Watch your back, Brigadier-General. These are dangerous times for anyone with... ambitions.'

Roy stifled the temptation to roll his eyes as the general marched out of the office, slamming the door to the corridor behind him hard enough to make the glass rattle in its frame. Threats from higher-ranking officers were something that came with the territory, and despite his bluster it was a struggle to see Chance as anything more than an inconvenience. Whether he had come to Roy under his own steam or been sent by the other generals to acquire information mattered little. In the end, the military had more important things to worry about than what Roy was doing.

He just had to make sure that this whole situation with Danner did nothing more to capture the attention of the brass.

Wandering through to the outer office, he realised his men were all at their desks, silent in the wake of Chance's departure. Ed and Al both stood just inside the door, as if they had parted hurriedly to allow him through, and Roy tried not to smile as Ed raised an eyebrow and jerked his thumb in the vague direction of the corridor.

'What was his fuckin' problem?'

'He didn't get the answers he was looking for,' Roy said dismissively. 'You look better, Alphonse. Are you feeling all right?'

Al gave a bright smile as he nodded his head. 'I've still got a rash, but they think it'll go away in a couple of days. Other than that, I'm fine.'

Roy found himself automatically looking for a hint of a lie, but this was not Ed he was dealing with. Gone was Al's green pallor from the day before. Instead he looked alert and even more determined than ever. Edward still hovered protectively at his side, arms folded and almost scowling as if daring the world to bring harm to his brother again.

'Good, I'm glad to hear it.' He turned away, already walking back towards his desk as he said, 'Come into my office, both of you. I was looking at the pamphlets Hughes found in the house, and I need your opinion.'

'Let me guess, religious bullshit?' Ed asked, nudging his way past Roy and into the office. Al was more respectful, waiting for Roy to enter his domain before following at his heels.

'I don't know. I didn't look inside. Leave the door open, Al.' Roy raised his voice so his men could hear him. 'If you see any light from an array going off, then get Hughes.' He was not sure why he felt compelled to give the order, but ever since he had set eyes on the pamphlets, he had felt a subtle wrongness prickling along every nerve. 'It might not be alchemical at all,' he added when Ed gave him a baffled look, 'but there's a waxy substance on the paper and – something's just not right.'

He checked that both the Elrics were wearing their gloves before removing the slim paper booklet from the drawer and placing it on top of the desk. Now, in the strong light of day, it was easier to see the thick, oily coating, gleaming with a hint of the rainbow on the paper's surface. Again, that same feeling of unease prickled over Roy's skin, and judging from the looks on their faces Ed and Al felt it too.

Ed looked up at him, his eyebrows raised in grudging respect. 'There's an old array on it somewhere, one that's mostly discharged but still holds a bit of power. Most alchemists would have felt it, but whether they would have known what it was...' He shrugged, looking back down at the offending document and cocking his head to the side, as if trying to see it from a different angle. 'Not that I can actually see anything.'

'Why would someone hide an array on something like this?' Al asked. 'What's the point?'

'I don't know.' Roy straightened up, chewing on his lip as he gave it some thought. 'Most alchemists are blatant with their designs, but this feels like a baited trap: something secret.' He took a deep breath, letting his voice carry through the air as he called out, 'Fuery, go to Hughes and ask him for his set of encryption lenses. I need to borrow them.'

'You think it's invisible ink?' Ed looked doubtful, but in the end he gave a hopeless shrug. 'Guess it's worth a shot. If nothing else any stored power might show up under different colours.' His face was pinched in a frown of irritation, and he sighed heavily as he turned to glare out the window. 'I kind of knew Danner was smart, but this...'

'It's beyond simple intelligence,' Roy finished, nodding his head in understanding. 'If this is his work, then it suggests he's a lateral thinker, someone who can hypothesise at angles that other people don't normally consider. The question is, what was he trying to do? If we can get a good look at the array, it might tell us more about him than anything else we've found so far.'

'Or it might be another dead end,' Ed muttered, cynicism coating his words. 'Fucker's always one step ahead. He's bogged us down in so many questions that we can't see the way forward. For all we know, this is nothing but a red herring.'

'It's still worth investigating, Brother.' Al pulled the booklet closer, running a finger over the strangely glossy surface before staring at the blank white cloth of his glove. 'Whatever this is, it doesn't come off easily. Someone spent a lot of time preparing this for use.'

'And the disciples spent a lot of time reading them,' Ed added. 'There are grubby fingerprints all over it.' He looked up when Fuery hurried back into the room, a box of lenses in his hands and Hughes hot on his heels. Quickly, Ed and Al both set to work examining the pamphlet, and Roy was left standing to one side, feeling suddenly useless.

'I thought you were going to bed?' he asked Hughes, frowning when his only answer was a shrug. 'Did you even leave Headquarters?'

'I got distracted,' Hughes replied, waving the sheaf of papers in his hand. 'Tomas Danner might be a bit of a mystery, but one of his aliases, Richard Milton, has been a very busy man.'

Roy held his hand out for the documents, skimming through the hastily typed report as Hughes carried on talking.

'It seems like he spent some time in the medical field, concentrating predominantly on the anatomy and behaviours of the brain.' Hughes pointed to the relevant paragraph, sketchy in detail, but a gem of information none-the-less. 'Cutting-edge stuff at the time, though he was always a supporting member of the research teams, never a leader.'

'An effort to stay under the radar do you think?' Roy asked, glancing up in time to see Hughes shrug. 'I doubt it was modesty that stopped him from taking any credit.' Doubt flickered over his mind. 'You're sure this is Danner, not some innocent who happens to share the same name?'

'Positive. I don't have it with me, but there's a photograph. It's the same man. There's more information, as well,' Hughes added, 'but my men are still putting it together into something cohesive. A bunch of facts won't do us much good without some kind of time-line. As soon as I know more, I'll get them to you.' He nodded his head towards where Ed and Al were both still bent over the booklet. 'Found something interesting?'

Roy followed his gaze, watching Ed place the green lens he was using back on the desk and pick up a vivid purple one before squinting through its polished surface. 'We're not sure yet. Something feels off, like there's an array there, but –'

'Got it.' Al's words punctuated the air, and he immediately relinquished the crimson glass in his hand to his brother. 'There's a design under the wax, about the size of a cen piece.'

'Definitely more like a trap than anything,' Ed added as he examined what Al had found, straightening up with a puzzled frown. 'There are storage cells all over it, plenty of places for an alchemist to leave power behind. As soon as anyone touched it, it would have gone off.'

There was something in Ed's expression that Roy could not recall seeing before. Normally, when confronted with an array he did not recognise, intellectual curiosity lit Ed's face, no matter what the nature of the design. Now, though, there was more doubt than interest, and he watched as Ed idly threw the lens into the air before catching it again.

'Any idea what it was meant to do?'

Ed's ponytail rippled as he shook his head, already reaching for a pencil and paper so he could sketch what the coloured glass had rendered visible. 'It almost looks like power storage and nothing else, but there are some symbols I've not seen before. It's more the why that's confusing.'

'How do you mean?'

Al answered Hughes' question before anyone else got the chance. 'Drawing an array in anything but visible lines is incredibly dangerous. You can't see any mistakes if you make them, and you have to be really sure the medium you're using is stable enough to hold a charge. Whoever created this went to a lot of effort.'

'He didn't want just anyone setting it off, either,' Ed added. Without a moment of hesitation, he took off his left glove, pressing his bare thumb to one corner of the cover. Fear bolted like a shock down Roy's spine, but Ed knew what he was doing. He had not disturbed the array at all, but after a minute he lifted his finger away, revealing a thin layer of glossy grease on his skin.

'Someone just picking this up would never have activated the array. The wax is a barrier. Only people who held it for several minutes would melt enough of it to touch the lines.'

'I see what you mean. There's a lot of thought behind it.' Hughes rubbed his fingers over his lips, frowning thoughtfully at the floor. 'If we can find out what it does, it could go a long way towards explaining Danner's influence over people. If only –'

A tap at the door interrupted him, and Roy looked over to see Hawkeye standing on the threshold. At her side, eyes shadowed but her face aglow with triumph stood Anders. She was moving with the restless energy of someone who had pushed through the wall of exhaustion to the bright, glassy edge of wakefulness once more, and she did not even wait for anyone to greet her before she spoke.

'We got one.' The smile became a tiny grin, clearly brimming with something like relief. 'We captured a disciple – a woman. Whenever you're ready, she's in the cells waiting for questioning.'

Roy's breath caught in his throat, locked there by surprise. It was not that he doubted the abilities of the police, he merely feared that Danner and his followers would always be one step ahead. Now, as he met Ed's eyes, he knew they were both thinking the same thing.

After days of bafflement and confusion, fear and doubt, perhaps they were finally getting somewhere.


	15. Chapter 15

Ed glanced around the police station reception as he strode in the door, clenching his teeth as feelings of threat and danger curled through him. He would never be able to look at this place the same again, not after what had happened only a handful of days ago. Even now, he could still see the signs of that brief attack when Max had taken him from his cell. Bubbled plaster had been hastily repainted, but it did not hide the chips of bullet holes or the grey phantom remains of scorch marks from that brief tussle.

It had been a distraction. Ed knew that now, and so did the police: a chance for Max to get away with Ed. He had never really asked Anders if anyone was hurt or if the perpetrators got away, but he knew in his gut that if they had been of any use, he would have heard of it by now.

‘They were shot.’ Anders’ comment made him jerk his head in surprise, and he realised she had followed his gaze to the lingering signs of destruction. ‘There’s a full enquiry, of course, but in the fire and smoke they were taken out. At the time, I thought it was nothing but my men fighting back against their assailants, but now…’ She shrugged, her shoes clicking smartly along the corridor.

‘You think otherwise?’ Roy asked, as carefully diplomatic as ever.

The woman’s face pinched in tight lines, and when she spoke again her voice was heavier than before. ‘I don’t know what to think anymore. I tried to contact the chief for assistance, but he’s training civilian forces in the Drachman border towns. No way to reach him.’ She turned left, her hands still clenched tightly behind her back, and Ed could see that her grip was turning her knuckles white.

Dealing with criminals and Central’s low-life scum every day had to be a wearing job. There was no end to humanity’s shit – Ed knew that well enough – and immersing yourself in that world would break you if you did not bend. Anders was the kind of woman who made sense of reality through rules and certainties. Now it looked like she was questioning every thought and supposition, and the result was quietness where there had once been confidence, and doubt where there had once been certainty.

She stopped outside the door to one of the interrogation rooms, her spine straightening as she turned around to face Ed, Roy and Hughes. ‘This whole thing is more complicated than I had thought possible. Back in the beginning, we thought the murderer was a psychopath, dangerous, unpredictable, but mindless. Now it turns out he has followers -- disciples -- power and intelligence. It’s more like organised crime than anything else; there’s no way of knowing how far the rot spreads.’

Hughes leaned against the wall, speaking in the calm, soft voice Ed had heard him use a hundred times before. When Roy was lost in a mess of strategy or Ed had been drowning during his endless search for the Stone, Hughes had always known just what to say to shear away the fear and bring the focus back to the core issue. ‘Cut out the heart, and the rest will die away. I know it’s hard not to jump at shadows, but concentrate on getting to Danner. He’s the answer.’

It was sound advice, and somehow Ed got the feeling that Hughes was including him and Roy in his statement. Every day brought more filth out into the light, and it was easier to examine the small problem than acknowledge the heart of it all. Like an upside down pyramid, all this rested on Danner. If they took him out, the whole lot would come tumbling down.

Anders nodded, running a bare palm over her neat hair before she met Hughes’ eyes. ‘I think Danner’s reach goes further than we think. The men we killed were not wearing robes, had nothing on them to suggest they were disciples, but they had more than fifty thousand Cens of cash: non-sequential notes.’

‘A pay-off?’ Roy shifted his weight, and Ed could see his mind working. ‘They could have been ordinary thugs -- disposable. Danner probably knew they’d end up dead, and if they were caught then they probably didn’t know anything about who hired them beyond the basics.’

‘Fifty-thousand is not a small amount of cash,’ Hughes pointed out. ‘Money and manor houses: it underlines the fact that someone is helping out with the financial aspect of all this -- unless there’s something we’re not seeing, of course.’

‘Why don’t we ask her?’ Ed jerked his head towards the door, assuming that the disciple woman was sitting in the next room. ‘She might not tell us much about Danner, but smaller things like that might get an answer, especially if you ask it right.’ He shrugged when Roy looked at him in surprise. ‘What?’

‘I didn’t think you knew anything about interrogation,’ Roy murmured, watching Ed with something a little like respect.

Ed rolled his eyes, more because Roy had a point than because he was being tiresome. Officially, Ed had never interrogated anyone. As far as the military was concerned, he did not have the rank or the training, but out in the middle of nowhere on assignment there was no one to tell him that. He got answers: in the end that was all he wanted.

‘You’re the one that thought she might talk to me because of all the “My Lord” stuff,’ Ed pointed out, trying to repress the shudder of distaste that crawled up his spine. Being called a hero of the people was bad enough, embarrassing and pointless, but the disciples were like sheep. He had done nothing to earn their respect, but they gave it freely anyway. It made him feel filthy all the way down to his bones, and even now a faint taste of bile lingered on his tongue at the thought of the priest’s worshipful followers.

Roy reached for the door handle. ‘It might still come to that, but keep quiet for now. Hughes and I will do the talking. People who refuse to answer questions give away a lot more than they think.’

The room on the other side was identical to the one in which Ed had been questioned: plain, monotonous, and lit with an agonising intensity. He remembered the coolness of the metal table and the uncomfortably hard chair, but it was the smell of stale coffee and desperation that filled his sensory horizon, turning his mood dark and bitter.

Another similarity was the man on the other side of the table. Warner sat, hands neatly folded in his lap as he watched the woman with disinterested eyes. He looked at her as if she was meaningless, neither a threat nor a curiosity.

His face was a blank mask until he looked around at the room’s new occupants. As soon as he saw Ed, his gaze hardened, but he said nothing as his eyes moved to Roy and a smug smile crossed his lips.  
‘She’s not said much.’ He shrugged like it did not matter. ‘Answers every question with her name, rank and number.’ Warner paused, and the smile grew wider, showing a hint of his teeth as he relinquished the notebook to Hughes. ‘Isn’t that what soldiers do? Guess your men are no more immune than ours.’

To Roy’s credit, he did not even blink, although Ed felt a quick burn of anger flicker back along the bond. At least he was not the only one who wanted to punch the policeman’s righteous little face to bits. ‘I never said they were, Officer Warner. Thank you for watching the accused for us.’

Warner did not seem to appreciate the gratitude, or Mustang’s adoption of the police terminology. The military were not well known for their fair trials. Anyone behind bars was a prisoner, simple as that. The woman in the chair, however, was surprised by it. Ed saw a flash of bafflement in her eyes before she pressed her lips together in a petulant display of silence. She had not looked his way, not yet, and Ed leant back against the wall by the door, keeping his face placid as both Hughes and Roy settled at the table.

Anders tucked herself into the corner – another silent observer, but unlike Ed she kept her body language professional and her face disinterested: just another police officer. It was a good trick, and he had no doubt she would be taking everything in as the interview progressed.

The silence was as thick and heavy as a shroud, and Ed watched the woman alone on her side of the table like the last survivor on a battle frontier. She wore the grey robes of the disciple, though they were smudged with mud as if she had sprinted through a field. Her pale blonde hair was tangled around her shoulders, but she wore the dishevelment like a medal, all pride and dignity.

‘Major Miller,’ Roy said at last, a greeting, not a question. He did not seem remotely surprised to see an officer in the clothes of one of Danner’s followers, but he kept his feelings well hidden. Only the bond gave away his uncertainty and dread, tar-like as it poured into Ed’s chest. ‘I expect you know why you’re here.’

The major gave a slow blink, and her lips curved in a faint smile. There were ghosts of innocence in her expression, wraiths of the woman she had once been, but the hungry cunning in her eyes made Ed scowl. Of course, it was hard to ignore the way some women gaped at Mustang, but this was not the simple, superficial glimmer of attraction. It was deeper, more knowing, and it made him wonder if there had ever been anything more than the passingly professional between them.

Dropping his eyes to the floor, Ed concentrated on the bowline that tied him and Roy together. It shone like sunlight, invisible to all other eyes, but every sense Ed had was aware of its presence. From the pressure of it on his skin to the heat beneath his ribs, it whispered the unguarded, unvirtuous truth along its length, giving off a weak resonance of Roy’s emotions on the other end.

Mustang recognised her, that much was true, but there was nothing more for Ed to discern: no bright blue of shock or icy creep of guilt and suspicion. Whatever Miller's expression looked like, there did not seem to be anything romantic lingering between her and Mustang, and Ed clamped down hard on the bloom of relief that flourished in his gut. He had no right to react like that, like Roy was his property to selfishly hoard. He had no more claim now than he did a week ago; the bond changed none of that.

Clenching his jaw, he tried to focus on the rather one-sided conversation. It was basic stuff, checking on identity, but if Miller answered at all it was with her name, rank and number, just like the military training suggested. Of course, they had wanted their soldiers to hold onto their secrets under duress, but it worked both ways, and Miller was showing she was the kind of woman who had a brain in her head.

Her voice was not the only thing saying very little. Her body was stiff and rigid, her palms pressed against the tabletop and her fingers, a little blue with the cold, peeking out from the sleeves of her robe. The fixed smile, vague but cruel, never changed, and her eyes did not leave Mustang’s face even for a second.

Finally, Roy grew tired of her continued silence. Ed felt the irritation spark through the air like static, and he watched as Mustang leaned back in the chair, apparently at ease. His body language was open and trusting, but just because he looked relaxed did not mean he was not braced for some kind of attack.

‘Your loyalty to the priest is impressive, Major. I wonder what he has done to inspire it in you. I seem to recall that following orders was never one of your strong points: always a failing in a State Alchemist.’

Ed bridled at that, even though he knew the barb was not aimed at him. Miller did not seem to take it any better, and though Ed could not see her pocket watch, Roy’s words made sense. She acted not-quite-right for a soldier, as if only half of the military rules applied, and now that Ed looked closer he could see some chalk dust on her sleeve.

Something flashed in her eyes, and Ed realised that what he had taken for desire was something altogether different. Anger, held back behind the cool mask of her impassiveness, began to fill the cracks of her façade, and he wondered how long the rivalry had been burning between her and Mustang. The age difference was wrong for them to have qualified together, but that did not mean they had not spent time under the same command in years gone by.

Yet the woman did not speak – neither rising to Roy's bait nor allowing her temper to take control. Instead she looked away, the picture of an impetuous child, and as she turned her head her gaze finally fell on Ed.

He saw the shock clang through her body, her muscles stiffening and her jaw turning tense. Her self-assurance fled, leaving her noticeably pale as she huddled a little smaller in her chair, but she kept her lips pursed tight as a knot of pale hair swung forward to frame her face in its curtains. Now her hands clenched into tight, defensive fists, like someone expecting the quick strike of retribution, and her gaze did not so much as twitch from Ed's face.

Her scrutiny was more uncomfortable than any verbal praise, and more than once Ed thought he saw her glance, puzzled at Mustang. He did not know if she had been there at Edil Park, one of the few surviving spectators to what had happened to them, and there was no way of knowing if Danner would have told his followers of the accidental bonding of Ed to Roy.

'He won't let you live.'

Her words were tired and cracked, little more than a whisper, and it took Ed a minute to realise that they were directed at Roy, not him. 'You won't survive when Father Danner comes to take back what is ours.'

'You mean Major Elric?' Roy kept his tone light and business-like, impassive as if nothing the disciple said could surprise him. 'He doesn't belong to anyone but himself. What's Danner told you? What does he want Fullmetal for?'

Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, but it was an absent-minded gesture rather than a seductive one. The chains around her wrists, mostly hidden by the sleeves of her robes until now, clanked as she lifted a hand to pick nervously at the chapped flesh on her pout. 'We need him.' She frowned, as if briefly puzzled by her own statement before her expression cleared. 'He will help us to the next place.'

Ed snarled quietly to himself, knowing religion was doing the talking. 'Whatever he has told you is bullshit. He's not going to help you anywhere. How many disciples has he already sacrificed in his experiments?'

To her credit, Miller looked genuinely appalled. 'They were rewarded, not punished.'

'They were murdered, just like the people he tried to bind,' Ed retorted. 'Whatever promises he's made, he won't keep them, and whatever's he told you I can do, I can't.'

The major let out a faint sigh, as if Ed were being deliberately obtuse. She was paying no attention to Roy, Hughes or Anders now. All her attention was focussed on him, and the happiness that covered her features was setting his teeth on edge. 'Of course,' she murmured in the kind of patronising voice one might use on five year olds. 'You don't know. How strange to go through your life not realising what you are – what you could be if you only tried.'

'What could he be?' Roy cut in, interrupting before Ed could splutter a protest. 'What do you know that we don't?'

The look she gave him was deeply offended. 'I've always known more than _you_ , Mustang. Consider it a blessing, being bound to him: like touching the sun, but it won't last for long.'

Ed tensed, feeling Anders' confusion from the other side of the room. So far, they had managed to keep the existence of the bond a secret among Roy's men, and the police knew nothing of it. Perhaps she would think Miller was talking in riddles, but the disciple's voice was steady and sure, utterly confident, and he could see Anders' wary puzzlement.

Ed's mind raced as he tried to think of something to say that would stop the Deputy Inspector from asking questions, but Hughes got there first, leaning comfortably on the table as he spoke up.

'Is that how Danner talks about it? Like a blessing? It doesn't sound like the people he practiced his alchemy on before would have agreed with him.'

Miller pursed her lips again at that, falling into a stony silence. She tried to fold her arms across her chest, but the manacles around her wrists would not give her the freedom, so she sat sulking in her chair. 'You all think Danner talked us into it,' she said at last, her lips twisting into a crooked grimace of a smile. 'You think he took intelligent, loyal people and somehow made them think what he wanted? You're wrong.'

She leaned forward, staring hard at Ed as she continued, 'It was all there in the booklets. I thought he was a nut at first, but all he asked me to do was read, and suddenly it all made perfect sense – like someone had turned the light on in my head. It gave me tingles.' She tipped her head to the side, one eyebrow raised in a faint challenge. 'You should read it too, then maybe you wouldn't be so hesitant to help us.'

'Don't fuckin' bet on it,' Ed growled, looking down at her bare hands for a moment before returning his gaze to her face.

The anger there came as a surprise. A hard rage turned her pale cheeks pink and drew her brow down in a sharp frown. 'You're just selfish,' she spat at last, her nose wrinkling as she shook her hair back over her shoulders. 'All that power and you won't even share it.' Her mouth clamped shut with a grim finality, her eyes narrowed spitefully as she leaned back in the chair.

Silence descended, and Ed knew that none of their questions would be answered now. She had given them very little to go on, barely anything they did not already know, and now he listened to Hughes' futile attempts to glean anything further. Every query was met with a roll of the eyes or a dark, stubborn look, and more than once Ed wished he could just throttle the truth from her. Some adults never seemed to grow out of their childish ways, and Major Miller appeared to be growing increasingly smug at their frustration.

At last, Roy spoke up, his voice quiet and calm, as if he were discussing nothing more important than the weather. 'You're sure the priest's worth dying for?'

Miller's smile froze, turning crisp at the edges, and the self-satisfied gleam left her eye. Her cheeks lost any faint vestige of healthy colour, turning deathly white as she blinked several times in quick succession.

'You're not an idiot, Cassandra,' Mustang added, already collecting the files in front of him. 'You know how this is going to end – against a wall in front of a firing squad. Perhaps you're telling yourself Danner will rescue you, but believe me, his disciples are utterly expendable. Whatever you are to him, it won't be enough for him to risk trying to get you back. You're on your own.'

She shrugged like that was nothing new, but Ed could see the tension in her thin body. The bravado was completely fake, and cracks were showing in her courage as her gaze flickered to him again, more pleading than proud this time. Yet she did not let her fear enter her voice as she said, 'I'm just playing my part.'

'Which is?' Hughes asked, sounding bored. No doubt he was used to prisoners playing games, and this seemed like just another trick: something to stop them from walking away without telling them a thing.

Ed noticed sweat beading on Miller's upper lip and hairline, glistening lewdly in the stark lights of the police station. Her skin looked clammy with fright, and her pupils were massive black discs surrounded by the band of her iris as she held his gaze.

‘Delivering a message: _Crosa anima, soluspentia. Auris porra, denik horra._ ’

Ed's blood turned icy in his veins as a dusty memory stirred. He knew those words, had heard them spoken in a thoughtful murmur and seen them written down somewhere, but for once the recollection had nothing to do with books and dusty paper. It was brighter than that, full of sunlight and curiosity, laughter and the smell of home... .

Miller moved suddenly, twisting her handcuffed wrists so that she could touch the sleeves of her robes with her fingertips. Instantly, the reek of tin filled the air, and the hairs on the back of Ed's neck prickled with static electricity. There was no time for anything but an inarticulate shout of warning as the power ignited: a sharp, bold bolt like a lightning strike. It filled the room with pink electricity, searing at his eyes and making his automail twitch and ache. The air felt as if it exploded, not with heat but with sound, battering at Ed's ears and making them ring as the hot-metal stench was replaced with the fragrance of cooked meat.

Prising his eyes open, Ed blinked aside pain, his heart in his throat as his gaze went immediately to Roy. He expected carnage – twisted metal and destroyed flesh – but Roy looked how Ed felt: surprised and shocked, but otherwise unhurt. He had thrown himself to the floor when the array went off, dragging Hughes down with him from the look of it, and now both men were staring at Miller, mouths helplessly agape.

The major was dead: anyone would know that the moment they looked at her. Eyelids drooped half shut over unfocussed eyes while red lines charted road maps over the whites. Strange fern patterns etched their way over her face, and it took Ed a moment to realise they were the veins beneath her skin, picked out in bruise-like colours. Her robe was a smouldering shroud of rags, and blisters, burst and bloody, marked her arms where the sleeves had fallen away.

'Fuck,' Ed muttered, straightening up from the instinctive crouch his body had fallen into and looking over at Anders. She was hunkered down on the floor in the corner of the room, every inch the threatened animal. Her face was pale and her eyes were huge, but she managed to straighten up and run a calming hand down her skirt, which crackled with static.

'What _was_ that?' Hughes croaked, wincing as he reached to straighten his askew glasses and got an electric shock for his troubles. 'Is everyone all right?'

The door slammed open, making everyone jump, and Ed glanced over to see Warner on the threshold with several other officers at his shoulder. He had probably heard the noise and come running. Now his face was a picture of disgust as he took in Miller's corpse and the four remaining occupants of the room.

'Damn alchemists,' he growled, giving a disdainful sniff. 'Nothing but more paperwork.'

'She killed herself,' Anders snapped, her voice trembling as she looked to Ed for confirmation before glaring at Roy. 'I suppose that answers your question, General. She did think the priest was worth dying for.' With a flick of her fingers, Anders indicated Miller's corpse. 'Someone get a stretcher and a sheet, and notify the coroner. I want to know how she did it, and I want to know how whoever searched her managed to miss the array.'

Anders swept through the door and out into the corridor as if she could not bear to remain a moment longer. Her men leapt to fulfil her orders, and Ed found himself hovering uncomfortably on the sidelines as Miller's remains were covered respectfully and her body was carefully placed on a stretcher.

Part of him felt he should be more shocked, but years in the military had made him almost immune to violence. The first brief spike of adrenaline and horror was fading as quickly as the ringing in his ears, and his mind was taking over, putting together the facts like puzzle pieces. More than once someone getting too close to the metal furniture got a nasty little shock, and the chair that Miller had been in was twisted and tempered as if it had undergone sudden, extreme heat.

'She electrocuted herself,' he mumbled, waiting for the police to get out of the way before carefully moving towards the middle of the room. The fingers of his automail hand twitched, and he gripped his wrist, knowing that the static charge in the air would interfere with the wiring. It did the same thing during a bad thunderstorm, and now there was just enough to make his metal limbs play up.

'With an array?' Hughes asked, trying to smooth down his flyaway hair. 'I didn't know that was possible.'

'It's not reliable.' Roy was leaning against the wall, his left hand cupping his right shoulder as if he was in pain. There was no obvious signs of blood, and when he caught Ed's worried expression Mustang gave a reassuring smile before peering out into the corridor to check they could not be overheard. 'The bond's sharing out the pain of your automail, that's all. I'm guessing it didn't like that array.'

Ed shook his head, giving an apologetic half shrug. 'Most of the wires are insulated, but at the port and the wrist there are bare ends. Power surges like that fuck things up for a while. It'll fade in an hour or so.' He rubbed his left hand over the nape of his neck as he hunkered down, taking in the warped metal chair and the faint scorch marks on the seat. 'This was very controlled. Electrical arrays are bastards to get right. They discharge at random, overload or fall apart at the blink of an eye, but this...'

'Great.' Hughes sighed, bowing his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 'So did she do this herself, or did she have help?'

Ed scooped up a tattered piece of cloth from the floor, frowning as it disintegrated into ash in his hands. He almost let it fall to the ground again, but a tiny golden glimmer made him pause and tip his palm to the light.

'Found something?' Roy asked, pushing himself away from the wall to crouch at Ed's side. 'What is that?'

'Looks like a metal mesh.' Ed turned the delicate traceries over, wincing as it flexed and almost broke. It was probably just a fragment of the whole, and a nasty suspicion began to form in his mind. 'You knew Miller, right? Was she any good at electrical alchemy?'

Roy was already shaking his head. 'I rarely saw her transmute anything. She was always too academic for the military – more about ideas than action. Seeing her in disciples’ robes?' He shrugged. 'It wasn't exactly a surprise.'

'It will be to her commanding officer,' Hughes pointed out. 'Danner's reach is going a lot further than we thought, and that means more people taking more interest in him.'

'And us.' Roy's gloves rasped as he cuffed briefly at his forehead, taking a few long seconds to think. Ed could practically feel the churn of the man's mind, and he listened as Roy continued. 'If we split our attentions between controlling the brass and catching Danner, we'll fail at both. Miller could not have created the array that killed her, though she probably activated it.'

Ed felt the weight of Roy's gaze on his profile, and something caught in his chest as he looked up into dark, focussed eyes. Roy looked like he was trying to read Ed's thoughts, but that was one thing the bond did not allow, at least not yet.

'What are you thinking?'

Stirring the dusty metal in his palm, Ed frowned, picking at the bits of fabric that still stuck to the mesh. 'This was woven into her robe. Want to bet that it’s the same for all disciples? If they'll die for Danner, then they'll die for his secrets too. He's made it easy for them to kill themselves if they're caught – at least the alchemists. The metal's probably what stopped us from getting fried too; it acted like a cage, keeping most of it close to Miller.'

That thoughtfulness did not seem to fit with what Ed knew of the priest. Saving lives was not what he was about, and it was not until Roy spoke that Ed saw the alternative angle.

'Danner's a control freak. All you have to do is look at his notes to see that: meticulous is just the beginning.' Roy glanced up at the warped remains of the chair before getting to his feet. 'That's what this is about. Killing bystanders would be a messy complication for him, that's all.' He shut his eyes, scrubbing at his face before dropping his hands back to his sides. 'Did we get anything from all of this? Did Miller tell us anything we don't already know?'

'What about what she said to you?' Hughes asked Ed. He was loitering by the door as if he were keen to leave, and his relief when Ed got to his feet and turned towards the threshold was palpable. 'I didn't understand the language, but it looked like it rung a few bells in your head.'

'It sounded familiar, that's all.' Ed shook his head dismissively as he strode towards the door and pulled it open. The corridor beyond smelled of sweat and nervousness, but it was better than the cooked meat scent that lingered in the interrogation room. 'Don't even know if it means anything. Could just be another dead end.'

'See what you can find out about it,' Roy ordered, reaching out and grabbing Ed's wrist, pulling him up short. 'It's possible Miller allowed herself to be captured so she could muddy the waters, but we can't risk ignoring something useful because of our suspicions.' He let Ed go again, glancing along the corridor towards the Deputy Inspector's office as he heaved a sigh. 'I'll talk to Anders. I don't think we can keep Miller's involvement with the priest hidden, but perhaps it's something we can control.'

It was instinctive to argue – to snap and snarl at Mustang's commands because that was what he _did_ – but Ed knew that Roy's orders made sense. Whether he liked it or not, he was right in the middle of Danner's mess, and there was a fraction of a chance that he could get to the root of the problem and turn things around. In the meantime, it was Roy's job to keep the military off Ed's back and in the dark, the same as always.

'I'll let you know as soon as I find anything,' he promised, already turning on his heel and heading towards the reception. He forgot all about the fact he was meant to be accompanied until two of Hughes' men fell in at his side, calm and silent. Ed cast them both a suspicious glance – just because they were soldiers did not mean they were not the enemy – but he recognised them both. Besides, one against two was not bad odds. Ed felt fairly confident he could take them both if they tried anything.

The cool air slapped him in the face as he stepped out onto the street, and he sucked in a deep breath as the bond began to itch and tickle. It happened so often that the sensation had become almost reassuring, and he shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned towards headquarters.

He had left Al safe and sound in the office looking over the strange, greasy pamphlets, and he had no doubt his brother would have read them from cover to cover by the time he got back. First, though, he needed to hunt down Scieszka and see if she had anything for him. Even if they were right and the booklets for the disciples were translations of _The Saffron Soul_ , they would still be more spin than sound fact. Ed knew better than to trust propaganda as a source. If there was any way to get even a partial translation of the original, untouched by Danner's motivations, then he would seek it out.

Then there were Miller's murmured words, so alien and yet painfully familiar. The memory was an elusive one – an _old_ one – and Ed grimaced as possibilities wheeled through his head. How far back did this go? If his dad was involved somehow, then it made sense that there might be something in Ed's childhood that tied in, like the far-reaching thread of a tapestry, but try as he might he could not pinpoint the phrase. He had learned to read from alchemy books on his dad's knee, but each word had been Amestrian, solid and sure.

No, it was something else, something that hovered on the edge of his mind like a ghost, impossible to grasp.

'Sir?'

Ed blinked out of his fugue, realising that they had reached the perimeter of Central Command. A couple of sentries were looking at him expectantly, and Ed rolled his eyes as he produced his watch for their inspection. They knew who he was, but clearly someone had been on their case lately about letting people through unchallenged, and he waited impatiently until they waved him on.

The walk to the Intelligence office was short, and it did not take long for Ed to find Scieszka at work. She was surrounded by books and paper, utterly engrossed in what she was doing. Her pen flew across the page, and she only paused to look up when Ed's shadow fell across her desk. Instantly, he knew she had discovered something. Anyone who had felt the flush of success would recognise it on another, and Scieszka's eyes were agleam behind her slightly crooked glasses.

'I was going to come and look for you at the end of the day,' she said with a bright smile, reaching out for a slim stack of pages and handing them over. 'I'm nearly done with the decryption, and Matthew recognised the language.' She gestured to one of Hughes' men who sat nearby, working with an expression of tortured concentration. 'It's Cerule.'

Ed's brow cinched in confusion. He recognised the name, faintly. It was a civilisation that was around at the same time of Xerces: one oasis among the many desert tribes, but they had little impact on the world of alchemy – or so he had thought. 'How does Matthew know it?'

'My father's a professor of ancient linguistics at the university,' Matthew said in the flat, distracted tone of someone too busy to look up from their work. 'He can't do it himself, he's not got the time, but he let me have some of his translation dossiers: they're like dictionaries, but the grammar...' He shrugged, shaking his head. 'Getting the words isn't too bad; putting them into sentences is the problem. He's better at this kind of thing than me. He did those.' He gestured to the pages in Ed's hand. 'Sorry there's not more.'

Ed held his sigh in. Patience was something he had steadily learned over the years, and some things could not be hurried along. 'Thanks, both of you. It's a start. I'll take them back to Mustang's office and see how they match up with the pamphlets we found.' He hesitated, knowing that neither Scieszka or Matthew could work on this forever. 'If you don't have time for anything else, look out for repeated words, common themes, all that shit. It could give us a vague idea of what's going on.'

With a quick wave of farewell, he slipped out of the bustle of Hughes' Intelligence office. His escort followed him, and Ed stifled his irritation as it crawled through him. He wanted to snap that headquarters was safe enough, but he knew he would be wasting his breath. Besides, with every passing hour he was beginning to wonder if there was anyone beyond Danner's insidious grasp.

In the beginning he had thought that Danner's followers were naïve and easily led, but it was becoming obvious that there was more at work than strong ideas bending the minds of those looking for a cause. Electrical alchemy was Danner's signature, as much as fire was Roy's, and he was putting it to good use. You only had to look at what was left of Miller to know that. He would bet anything the arrays on the pamphlets were of an electrical nature. A tiny shock here, a prickle there and suddenly people are thinking differently. The body was a giant circuit after all, and the brain a storm cloud of connections.

Ed would not know where to begin, but he was not about to underestimate the priest – not after everything he had seen.

Nudging his way into the office, he barely noticed Hughes' men melt away, leaving him in the capable hands of Mustang's command. There was something comforting about the general industry of the room. Fuery was at his desk, doing something mysterious with a radio, while Falman, Breda and Havoc, still with a bandaged head, appeared to be working hard on getting to grips with the filing. Hawkeye was in the middle of it all like a spider in a web, coordinating everything. She looked up as he entered, and he could tell from the pinched set of her expression that she was hoping that Roy would be with him.

'Bastard probably won't be long,' Ed said dismissively, wandering over to the box of pamphlets before selecting one and tipping it to the light. 'None of you have touched these, have you?'

'No,' Hawkeye replied firmly. 'Alphonse told us not to.'

'I didn't know what they might do,' Al said, waving his brother closer to the beaten desk where he worked. He had been drawing out schematics of the arrays, marking down changes and what colour lens made the lines visible. 'One of Mr Hughes' men dropped in a report. Danner was in a team that experimented with electro-shock therapy.'

Ed grimaced, his skin already crawling at the thought. The military had gone through a stage of trying to treat traumatised soldiers by running electric currents through their brains. The results had been sporadic at best, and more often than not the patients were reduced to nothing but living dolls – practically mindless.

'Experimenting how?' he asked, taking the papers from his brother and reading through the dense type with speed. It was patchy, with almost a year passing unmentioned in one place, but there were enough oblique references for Ed to get an idea of what the priest had been doing. Perhaps to his employers he had been working on therapies, but Ed would bet the well-being of his subjects was the last thing on the priest's mind.

He was just trying to control them – to tune their minds into the right frequency to make them believe his lies – and it looked like his work had been a success.

'So all those people: Max, Jenson, Miller, all the rest... He forced them to believe this?' Ed flicked his fingers at the pamphlet.

Al shrugged, leaning his weight on his palms. 'I don't think it's that simple. People who touched these arrays would have to hold it for five, ten minutes... . They would have to be interested enough in it to keep reading. Perhaps they were already considering it, and then Danner's array just gave them a nudge?'

'Either way, it removes the culpability.' Breda's statement was matter-of-fact, and Ed looked up to see Roy's men were all listening intently to what they were saying. 'Maybe some of them were coerced by the alchemy and others followed him of their own free will, but we'll never be able to tell which are guilty and which were influenced. It means his disciples might get away with the things they've done.'

'But Danner won't,' Ed growled. 'We'll make sure of it. He's not just killing people or fucking with their souls; he's messing with their minds. That's probably how he's got so many disciples.'

Al picked up the sheaf of papers Ed had put down on the desk: Scieszka and Matthew's translation of the old, encoded book. He read through it with the impassive face of a scientist, but Ed knew his brother well enough to realise that was just a mask. From the looks of things, he had already skimmed the pamphlets and made some notes. Ed could pick out keywords from his brother's orderly scrawl, and what he saw was not comforting.

'Dad's involved, isn't he?' he asked quietly, pitching his voice low and rounding his shoulders as he shoved his hands back in his pockets. 'Danner wasn't just fucking with us?'

Al sighed, turning his notes the right way up so Ed could read them properly. 'It's a religious creed, sort of. It mentions someone called Ayanyme – a blessed man who emerged from the ruins of the city Xerces after what the book calls the apocalypse.' He rubbed a hand across his forehead, his voice little more than a murmur. 'The name could easily be a variation of Hohenheim – it sounds similar enough and we know dad was there, but the way they write about him...'

Ed raised an eyebrow as Al nudged the pages closer, and he could see exactly what his brother meant. Ayanyme was mentioned often, and in rapturous tones. He was a person to be worshipped, capable of many great things, and as he continued to read, more salient points made themselves known.

He shook his head as he looked up at Al. 'This stuff might be old, but it's all second-hand information, like someone recounting a legend they heard years ago. The timeline's all over the place, and even the locations seem wrong. One minute he's in the desert, the next he's in the South? It doesn't make any sense.' Ed sighed, feeling barbed frustration twist in his stomach and stick in his throat. 'Somewhere in all this there's something that caught Danner's attention. Something that he wants, but what?'

Al shrugged, closing his eyes for a long moment before opening them again. He looked pale and drained, and Ed's skin prickled with alarm. The doctors had given Al the all clear, but to him it looked like his brother was still suffering from his ordeal. Grabbing a chair, he eased Al down into it, bending his knees so he could look into his little brother's face.

'You all right?' he asked roughly, unconvinced by Al's attempts at a reassuring smile. 'You look like shit.'

He received a dark glare, but it lacked any strength, and eventually Al's shoulders slumped beneath Ed's scrutiny. 'I'm fine, Brother. It just that all this –' Al gestured to the notes scattered across the desk '– makes me think of looking for the Stone, being in armour, almost like it never really ended.'

Ed knew what Al meant. Despite all their efforts and that one, essential victory of reclaiming Al's body, it felt as if they were always in the shadow of their past: haunted by the Gate, the Stone and their father's mysteries.

'You won't end up like that again.' He kept his words firm and certain – they were true after all. As long as he was alive to look out for Al, then his brother's safety and happiness would be his highest priority. 'You won't end up bound to anything, armour or otherwise. I promise.' He glanced over his shoulder at the fanned out pages that littered the workspace, feeling the burden of it settle on his shoulders. 'If this is bothering you too much, then I can do it on my own.'

Al did not even bother to deign that with an answer as he pulled some of the notes meaningfully towards him. Ed was not the only one who could be stubborn and, within moments, he was absorbed in the documents.

Eventually, Ed followed suit, knowing there was no point in arguing with Al. His body relaxed into the hard wooden chair as he settled down, taking the translation and diving into its mysteries as he searched for meanings both mundane and extraordinary.

The text was obsessed with Hohenheim's power, speculating wildly over the sources of it, but what he could actually do was never really mentioned – at least not in what they had. Even the pamphlets were vague on that score, mentioning some form of ascension and nothing more. Only one thing stood out to Ed as more than just propaganda – conspicuous enough to stir his instincts and tighten his muscles – and that was the constant mention of a portal.

It was not described, but referred to obliquely, a doorway for the soul, and even though the words were second-hand and spun by someone else's ideals, Ed knew they were talking about the Gate. Danner had to know about it. His lab-rat alchemists would have told him what they had seen. Messing around with someone's soul was a sure way to get dumped in front of that giant threshold and, gradually, Ed was beginning to wonder if that was the point.

The afternoon slipped away as he pored over everything they had. From Danner's precise notes to the vague Dogma in the pamphlets and back again, all the while returning to the first snippet of translation that they had. He and Al talked now and then, quietly voicing their suspicions to each other, but mostly they continued in silence, losing themselves in the plethora of information spread out before them.

Ed felt Mustang return to the office in the same way a compass seeks North. The bond stopped buzzing like a sullen swarm and began to purr, a subtle change in resonance, but one that skimmed beneath Ed's skin and bones, all the way to his core. It became even easier to concentrate, and he was able to block out everything but the task in hand as the office carried on around him. Someone put food and occasional cups of coffee on the desk by his elbow. Eating and drinking were automatic functions he did not recall, but the crumbs and dregs told their own story. His body met its irritating needs while his mind was engrossed in something else.

'Here.'

He blinked at the piece of paper that someone had shoved under his nose, allowing his eyes to correct their focus and take in the phrase Miller had said to him written in a neat, slanted hand. Grunting in thanks, he looked up at Hughes. 'Still got no idea what that means.'

'In the end, it's all we got out of her,' Hughes replied, his expression saying it all. The day had been a long, fruitless endeavour, and looking over the man's shoulder Ed could see Roy over by the coffee pot, practically slumped in defeat as he poured himself a cup. 'Have you two found anything in all this?'

Al nodded slowly, pursing his lips as he thought through his words carefully. 'The religious texts mention someone we think is Dad. They talk about him like he's a god or something.' He glanced over at Ed's disbelieving snort, but carried on. 'From what I can make out of all this, The Saffron Soul is Dad – a vast power source in human form: to them, he is the ultimate alchemist, or was, anyway.'

'That's why Danner's after the two of you. He thinks you're just the same,' Roy said quietly, looking Ed up and down as if he were taking the suggestion seriously.

'We're not!' Ed snapped, folding his arms and shaking his head. 'The bastard was like that because of what happened at Xerces. It's not something that you can pass on!'

'Actually...' Al sounded almost apologetic, and he shrugged when Ed threw him an incredulous look. 'You're right, of course. Dad was able to perform incredible alchemy because of what happened when he was younger, but the book keeps talking about something before that – an innate ability.' Al narrowed his eyes, scrubbing tiredly at his forehead as he tried to explain. 'We might not have the power he did, but there could be something else that's caught Danner's attention. I’m just saying that Xerces might not be the answer this time.'

'The fucker's insane,' Ed muttered, wishing it was that easy to write off the priest. 'This stuff keeps mentioning the Gate, and no one in their right mind should want to mess with that.' He leaned his palms on the desk, glaring down at the white swathe of paper until the lines blurred. 'We just don't know what exactly it is he's planning to do if he gets his hands on the right soul.'

Ed reached out for one of the pamphlets, only pausing when Roy got there before him, tugging it out of his reach. 'Not tonight, Ed. Do you even know how late it is?'

A smart reply died on his lips as he took in the thickness of night beyond the window. Roy's men had long ago left their desks, and the stark, harsh light of the lamps were all that kept the shadows at bay. Belatedly, his body was making it known that he had spent too long reading. Stiff muscles groaned beneath his skin, and his eyes felt sharp and dry.

Normally, he would have batted Roy's hand aside and carried on working anyway, but this time he could not just think of himself. Roy looked how he felt, drawn and pale with frustration, and a faint wince suggested that the headache thudding in Ed's temples was flickering back along the bond. Besides, if he stayed up, then Al would do the same, and his little brother looked like he needed his rest.

'You can start on it again first thing tomorrow,' Roy said with a wry smile. 'I promise. Besides, you never know, you might come up with some answers while you sleep. Working yourself to death over it won't get us our answers any quicker.'

Al took advantage of his brother's hesitation, scooping the papers into a neat pile and drawing a line under the work of the day. However, Ed noticed that one piece stayed in Al's hand, screwed up in his clenched fist, and he fought to keep the puzzled frown off his face as Alphonse cast him a meaningful "I'll tell you later" look.

He was not sure if Hughes and Roy had seen Al's behaviour or not. The two men were busy doing all the things required to close an office down for the night: switching off lamps and emptying mugs, closing windows and drawing blinds. Ed bid them a grudging goodnight as he walked towards the door. Al's farewell was brighter and more earnest, but neither of them hesitated as they stepped over the threshold of the office and out into the corridor.

For once there were no guards to watch them, no silent shadows on their heels, and Ed glanced suspiciously along the hallway before realising that his brother was already hurrying towards their room. 'Al, wait. What's going on? Do you recognise what Miller said?' Ed broke into a slow jog, catching up and falling in at his brother's side as he tried to read Al's profile. 'You do, don't you?'

'I'm surprised you didn't,' Al murmured in response. 'I barely remember Dad being around, but that...' He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair before digging in his pocket for the key to their door. It was only once they were ensconced safely within the bare, drab room that he continued. 'Remember Dad's basement?'

It was a stupid question, and Ed let his face reflect his answer. The contours of that cellar were emblazoned in dark tones of blood and the tang of power. He could remember toppled piles of junk, thick with dust, and living armour where there should have been only empty metal.

'Not from after Dad had gone,' Al said. 'When he was still there. Do you remember that?'

'Yeah.' Ed shrugged. 'Sort of, anyway. Full of books all over the place and stuff he'd found over the years. I never thought it was weird that he had armour and shields from hundreds of years ago. Never thought he'd been there to pick 'em up in person.'

Al's faint smile was one of agreement. They had looked on their father first with a child's innocence and then, later, through the immature fog of hurt and pain. Even now that had not entirely faded, and it was challenging to associate the Ayanyme in the book with the man they knew. 'This wasn't on any of that. It was carved into the lintel above the door: part of the house.'

'Which Dad built.' Ed shrugged out of his jacket, raising his voice as Al padded through to the bathroom, no doubt to get ready for bed. 'Chances are he put it there.' Now that Al mentioned it, the memory was beginning to crystallise in his mind, no longer a few snatches of sensory information, but a clear image.

He and Al had been playing on the floor, picking out childish arrays in chalk for their father's praise. He had been distracted, staring towards the stairs that led into the rest of the house, and Ed had followed his gaze. The writing had been there, not a smooth, polished engraving, but jagged letters in the wood. Now, with a jarring shock of alarm, Ed realised the words in his watch were just the same: clumsy, but heartfelt and deeply scored.

'I asked him what it said,' Ed murmured, repeating himself in a louder voice when Al poked his head out of the bathroom door and made a questioning noise around the toothbrush in his mouth. 'I asked him what it said, not what it meant.'

The memory of his father's murmured response, so foreign even back then, whispered in his ears. It sounded unlike any other language he had heard before, almost lyrical in his dad's voice when it had sounded rough in Miller's, and Ed scowled as he kicked off his boots and glared helplessly at the messy nest of his bed.

Sleep beckoned, a heavy presence in his mind, and he sighed as he cast away all his questions. Tomorrow. It could wait until tomorrow.

He waited for Al to get out of the bathroom, going through his routine as he listened to his brother talking. It was comforting to hear Al's endless theorising, and Ed finally flicked off the light and picked his way over to his bed, stripping down to his underwear before slipping between the sheets. It felt strange and cool, and he realised abruptly that the past two nights he had not lain his head down here. He had always been at Roy's side, either in the hospital or on Mustang's couch.

Strange, it felt better there than here, within four drab walls and on a military mattress.

'Maybe you should go to Risembool,' Al suggested sleepily, his voice muffled by the blankets Ed knew would be pulled up to his brother's nose. 'See what's there.'

'Nothing but ash, you know that. Besides, I can't just wander off and leave Mustang here. Remember what happened last time?'

There was a whisper of fabric as Al turned over, getting more comfortable. 'So take him with you. I'm just saying, Brother, that you never know what you might find. It's strange what can survive a fire.'

Ed did not answer as he lay on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Al's suggestion seemed like a futile hope, but Ed was almost prepared to clutch at straws. He felt like someone faced with a door that blocked him from the truth. All he needed was one key and he would have all his answers. Perhaps their old home would provide the means to unlock the cage of their ignorance.

Grudgingly, he decided to tell Mustang about it tomorrow. After all, whether Ed liked it or not Roy would need to go with him. Risembool was almost a day's train-ride away; he'd be unconscious before an hour was up if Roy stayed in the office. The bond would make sure of that.

Ed grunted to himself, closing his aching eyes and trying to will his body to sleep. Minutes slipped past, and he tossed and turned, trying to find the perfect spot that would pitch him into slumber. But while Roy was still awake all his efforts were futile. He did not know how long it was before the bastard went to bed, but Al's snores were softly stirring the night when the bond changed from sharp and active to something passive: a resting presence – and at last Ed's eyes drifted shut.

Sleep welcomed him, and he had no idea how long the darkness held him before the shadows stirred. A soft sound nibbled at the corner of his hearing, and he knew without opening his eyes that it was the fire in the grate. The faint smell of spice and sparks assailed his nose, and he nuzzled deeper into the pillow, pressing himself against the warm body at his side.

Gentle fingers stroked over his hip, sending thrills along languid nerves. Heat bloomed, flowing down his veins to pool between his legs, and Ed made a rough noise of appreciation as he rubbed the tip of his nose along Roy's jaw, breathing in the scent of him.

A faint warning was chiming in the back of his mind, but its notes were swiftly drowned by the purr of baser instincts. He could feel the swell of Roy's erection pressing against his own, rock hard and insistent, and he trailed his hand boldly down Roy's chest and stomach, feeling the dark hairs scratch at his left palm.

And there, echoing faintly over his own skin, was the same sensation, as if a ghost of his own caress swept across his flesh. It was enough to send a shiver of strange delight through him. Ed swallowed tightly as Roy's hands curved around, splaying over his back. There was no pressure, nothing to force him closer or hold him in place, just the tantalising sweep of those long fingers up and down his spine, longing but strangely wary.

Opening his eyes, Ed looked up into Roy's face, feeling his entire body jolt in response to the desire in those dark irises. Pale skin was flushed with want, and Ed's gaze automatically fell to Roy's lips, hypnotised as the pink tip of Roy's tongue darted out to moisten the sensitive flesh.

'Ed...' His voice was nothing but a sexy hush, and Ed briefly wondered over the tiny edge of regret in Roy's voice before he cast the concern aside, tipping his head and stretching up to capture those lips with his own.

Light exploded through his brain, like the sun sparking into existence in the middle of the night, searing away all but the most basic thoughts as his body responded. Roy's groan of need made Ed's spine curve, pushing him closer still to Roy's body as Ed relished his taste and trembled at the faint scrape of teeth over his bottom lip.

It was almost too much to bear, battering at his senses until they were splayed open and defenceless, feeling everything from the hush of the sheets to the heat of Roy's skin. At some point Roy had shifted, no longer at Ed's side but leaning over him, one hand clutching his hip possessively while the other cupped the back of his head, tugging lightly at his hair to change the angle and deepen the kiss.

Ed's hands refused to stay still, curving gold and silver over Roy's shoulders and skimming down his back and lower, gripping Roy's hips hard enough to leave bruises. He tried to be gentle, but the force of his need was like a runaway train, practically unstoppable. His body keened for more, for _all_. Every breath filled his lungs like smoke as Roy broke the kiss, dipping lower to bite at the tender skin over Ed's pulse hard enough to leave a mark.

It was natural to tilt his head, allowing Roy better access as he slid his left hand down between them, his knuckles brushing his own erection as he curved his fingers around Roy's straining cock. A smirk tilted his lips as Roy made a choked noise, tangibly twitching in Ed's palm.

Yet he held himself back, almost panting against Ed's skin with the effort and groaning loudly when Ed stroked up and down, teasing him closer and closer to the point of no return. Something in Ed's mind – something still aware despite the thick fog of lust that filled him – realised something was holding Roy back and making him hesitate, but Ed was beyond reason. He wanted this so badly that it felt as if he were burning up and breaking down, turned to nothing but ash and embers by Roy's touch, and only going all the way could bring him back again.

Perhaps it was that which made the one word he rarely ever said slip past his lips to hover in the air between them like a prayer.

'Please?'

He felt the flicker of Roy's eyelashes against his neck and the cool whisper of an indrawn breath of surprise, but immediately the sensations fled as Roy shifted, his lips returning to reclaim Ed's mouth. He barely noticed when Roy pulled himself free from Ed's grasp, moving down and back as hot, dry palms slid down Ed's sides to his hips.

No need for lube, not here and now. In one quick stroke the tide of pleasure rose, filling Ed with the burning wave of light that threatened to break at any moment. It frothed and foamed, leaving him gasping and seeing stars as Roy remained motionless inside him, clearly struggling for some element of control before he began to move.

Grace and artifice had no place between these sheets, and Ed's body trembled as he felt the wildness of the man over him, _in_ him, barely held back. The muscles in Roy's arms flexed as he supported his weight, his forehead pressed to Roy's brow as every panted breath mingled between them. Inarticulate words caught in Ed's throat, escaping in rough, harsh sounds as he moved to meet Roy's thrusts, finding the rhythm and keeping pace.

He struggled to grip Roy's sweat-slicked skin as he took Roy deeper. A curse of pleasure escaped the older man's lips. Dark hair was spiked and damp, and swollen lips parted. Toned muscles flexed and rippled beneath Ed's clumsy touch, and the moment Roy closed his fist around Ed's cock was the moment the world turned white.

Ed's orgasm dragged him into wakefulness, his cry of release mercifully stifled by the pillow as he ground into the mattress. Every nerve was on fire and every inch of his skin aware, teased by nothing more than the brush of the sheets against him and the fading memory of Roy's touch. Ed shuddered helplessly as the roaring tide of pleasure gradually ebbed, leaving him sticky with sweat and worse.

Reality hit him like a battering ram, leaving his face burning as he sucked in a sharp breath. On the other side of the room, Al still slept on, oblivious, but Ed was not thinking of his little brother. It was the man on the other end of the blazing bond who ensnared him. As if having his nightmares on display were not humiliating enough, now Roy had seen that.

A sex dream starring himself.


	16. Chapter 16

Roy leaned back against the wall of the shower, barely noticing the cool kiss of the tiles against his skin. Warm water sluiced over him, washing away the evidence of his release, but he knew that dream would remain emblazoned across his mind like the sun in the sky. His nerves hummed like harp strings, still resonating to Ed’s phantom touch, and lingering embers of heat threatened to re-ignite in the pit of his stomach.

Dreaming about Ed was nothing new. It had happened before, more times than he could count, but the images had been ghostly: mere suggestions of passion. That... explicit did not begin to cover it. He had woken up shaking his way through a blinding orgasm, but when he had reached out for the man who had caused it, there was nothing but an empty bed, and reality had crashed down on his head.

Pursing his lips, Roy bowed his head, scrubbing tiredly at his eyes. God knew what time it was, but he could not stay in the nest of his sheets after that. It was not an issue of sleeping in the wet patch - the bed was a double, and he could have moved over to the clean side - but he suspected as soon as he closed his eyes he would plunge straight back into the same fantasy. Bad enough that Ed would have seen it once. He did not need a repeat performance.

Embarrassment darkened his cheeks, and Roy dragged a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back as he drove that simple truth home. What had happened tonight would not be safely locked away inside his head, private and secret. The bond would share it, bearing Ed as witness to the scene, and what did that make Roy? The Ed in his arms might have granted his permission - had practically begged for it in a very un-Ed-like way - but the Ed on the sidelines had done no such thing. Perhaps Roy had not seen him, but it was not like he had even looked. He had been too absorbed with what was happening next to him, _under_ him; the room and its contents had been nothing but a canvas for his desire, but now he wished he’d had the sense to stop.

Twisting off the taps, Roy stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, scrubbing away the water with punishing ferocity. Humiliation never sat well with him, and already a dozen defensive thoughts were snarling through his head. No one could control their dreams, not really. He could not be blamed for what his own subconscious had conjured up. Ed had simply been a more central part of his life lately, a useful piece of scenery for Roy’s imagination. Besides, for all he knew, the bond had conjured up that dream, not him.

The heat in his stomach called him a liar, and Roy knew his excuses were nothing but thin veils. They would offer no protection from Ed’s inevitable judgment. Sooner or later he would have to face Fullmetal and explain, but even the thought of speaking to Ed after this was enough to make something curl up, whimpering and whining, in his stomach. Besides, what was he meant to say? That it was just a dream? That it meant nothing?

It would be a lot easier to let those words pass his lips if he believed them himself.

Hissing a curse, Roy turned towards the mirror, glaring hard at his reflection and seeing the fear that lingered behind his eyes. ‘Coward,’ he muttered, knowing there was nothing he could do to deny his own accusation. He was not even sure what he was afraid of any more. That dream had brought a lot of ugly issues he had been trying to ignore to the fore, and they all orbited around Ed and the bond.

The past few days had shown him Ed in a new light, and the resulting feelings - as soft as feather down and strangely insidious - left him baffled. His relationships were normally straightforward. Passion played the predominant part, and while tenderness occasionally crept in, Roy went to a lot of effort to keep his heart silent. Love left people weak and split their focus, and so he had decided not to experience it more than absolutely necessary.

Except that choice did not really come into it. For the first time in more than ten years, he was beginning to remember why people _fell_ in love. It happened, just like that, with barely any warning. One minute there was nothing but a spark, the next there was more emotion than any human could cope with. Roy felt as if he was standing on the precipice, his weight already tipping forward to take the plunge, and he could not even begin to pinpoint the moment when all of the confused, muffled desire had found its focus.

Ed mattered. He always had, in some ways, but before there had been the occasional torrid dream and a faint bloom of tenderness inside Roy’s chest. Now there was need, pure and simple. Not just a physical thing, but an emotional one, as if the bond tied their hearts together, as well as their souls.

And therein lay the problem. He wanted to believe that, if the situation was different, he would have the courage to put it all on the line and let Ed know how he felt, but the tether that linked them clouded the issue. How was he meant to explain when he was not sure which feelings were his and which came from the bond?

No, he could not take that risk. If nothing else, it was unfair to Ed. If he confessed and then, when the bond was broken, the feelings vanished like mist at dawn it would cause nothing but pain.

He did not allow himself to consider the possibility that Danner’s work might linger with them both for the rest of their lives.

Pitching the towel aside, Roy reached for the pile of clothes he had left by the door, hesitating when a faint smudge of colour caught his attention in the foggy mirror. Leaning closer, he wiped away the steam, frowning in confusion at his reflection. Four purple blemishes marked his skin, standing out like soot against the pale backdrop, and he lightly brushed a fingertip over them as the wildfire of his memory flashed to life.

Ed had dug his fingers in during the dream, urging him on, and Roy had willingly followed his lead.

Swallowing tightly, Roy stared at the blemishes that lingered as his brain struggled to process what it was seeing. What had happened while he was asleep was a figment of his imagination, incapable of leaving its mark in the real world, and yet there they were, as if Ed really had shared his bed a short time ago.

‘What the hell?’ Roy blinked, expecting the bruises to vanish, but they remained as stubborn as the man who had left them there in the first place.

Shrugging into his shirt, he left it unbuttoned as he yanked open the bathroom door and strode through to the bedroom, looking critically at the bed. Only one of the pillows was dented, and the tangle of sheets was more turbulent around the side he normally slept on. Ed had never been there. Roy had been alone, and yet the marks on his hip suggested some element of reality to what had been nothing but a product of his mind.

With a shake of his head, Roy turned away, letting his fingers move through the automatic process of doing up his shirt as he cast the chittering questions from his mind. It was a coincidence, that was all. He must have got the bruises somewhere else, perhaps when they were rescuing Al. So what if they lined up with the clutch of Ed’s grasp during the dream?

It was probably just his mind playing tricks on him.

Doubt whispered through his chest, wending its vaporous vines through his ribs, but Roy ignored it as he continued getting dressed, wrapping himself in the familiar symbols of his office. Outside the window, the first soft breath of dawn was starting to show its face, and he grimaced to himself in disbelief. Before the bond, it had been a struggle to be up and ready in time for a nine o'clock start. These days he found himself waiting around for a reasonable hour at which he could enter the office. It was one thing to be seen as keen by the brass, but quite another to give the impression of being obsessed. It would raise too many suspicions.

Straightening his collar, Roy checked his reflection as he let his mind distract itself. Thinking about Ed, the dream and all that it entailed was too much for him to deal with before breakfast. The military, however, was his playground: a place where he was in control. Oh, the Fuhrer might lead them, but Roy knew better than anyone that it was not about being at the top of the tower, but the centre of the web. He always had his ear to the ground, especially with Hughes' assistance, and he knew well enough that faint, puzzled whispers from the higher ups would soon become shouted questions.

With a tight sigh, Roy opened the door to his room, automatically checking the empty corridor as he locked up before making his way to the canteen. Headquarters was meant to be safe, hence why he was staying here in the first place. His men knew that, but it was a rationale that could not reach the ears of anyone who outranked him. At best they would label him as paranoid. At worst they would start paying attention to what was going on with Danner and the disciples.

He glanced down at his right wrist, wrapped in a clean bandage and hidden by his sleeve. The wound was healing nicely, but the last thing he needed was someone catching a glimpse of the array. On its own it was something that could be dismissed: an insignificant injury of no real meaning, but if they saw its twin scored into Ed's flesh then faint suspicion would become bold accusations. Perhaps the other officers would not know the details, but ignorance had never stopped them before. Besides, Roy knew his peers. They would dig and dig and keep on digging until they knew it all, and he and Ed would suffer for their perseverance.

Throwing them off the scent was normally easy, and so far he had been generally successful. The right subtle rumour in the right place and people left him alone. As far as the brass knew, Roy was staying in headquarters because a serious case of dry rot had left his house uninhabitable. By the same token, Danner's case had been left alone. Roy cited the tenuous relationship between military and police as a reason not to let anyone else rock the boat, but time was running out on that score.

Soon enough, someone would interfere, and Roy was under no illusion that he and Ed would stay safe. Their days were numbered either way. If it were simply a case of the bond by itself, it would be easy enough to hide. Soldiers were allowed their little eccentricities and any strange behaviour that he and Ed shared could probably be excused, but Danner's continued efforts were putting them all in a harsh spotlight. No secrets could survive long like that.

Turning into the canteen, Roy's train of thought slammed on its brakes, coming utterly derailed as he noticed the room's only other occupant. His stomach thrashed with nervous butterflies, and his throat turned dry and tight as his heart sped up. Of course, if he was awake, then so was Ed, and the hunger that rumbled in his gut was a shared sensation. Fullmetal had headed for the nearest source of food, and since the canteen did not open for another fifteen minutes, he had absorbed himself in his default state: reading.

Except that he was not as engrossed as normal. His head was resting on his gloved palm, and the expression on his face was hard to define. Mostly it looked like loathing, annoyance and embarrassment all mixed into one, but where Roy was used to seeing the hot, quick flash of anger there was something slower and darker. It was as if Ed's mood had slipped beyond the tempest of his temper and into calmer, more treacherous waters of a different mood – one Roy was almost certain was caused by the dream that had stalked their sleep last night.

For a moment, Roy was tempted to simply turn on his heel and get out: to run away rather than face the inevitable awkwardness, but he had the sense to know that would be a fatal mistake. If he fled now, the humiliation and discomfort would fester and grow, and meeting Ed's gaze would only become more difficult. Better to get this out of the way now than let it get any worse.

Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, Roy made his way across the room, seeing the flick of Ed's gaze towards him and the unmistakable cringing curve of the younger man's shoulders. By the time Roy sat down opposite him, he could almost feel the words “ _Fuck off, Mustang!_ ” shrieking down the bond. It scraped across his nerves like a saw over exposed bone, sending a shudder down his spine as all the words he could have said died in his throat, as unspeakable as stone.

He had no idea what to say, and judging from Ed's dense, deep silence on the other side of the table, he was not going to get any help. Ed was staring intently at the book, very much _not_ looking at Roy, and he did not so much as blink when Roy's weak voice finally tripped off his tongue.

'About what happened last night...'

'Shut up, Mustang. I don't want to talk about it.'

The statement was like the snap of a trap, sharp steel jaws that smacked Roy back into silence. He had expected Ed to be embarrassed, possibly angry, but not this. His words were hard and irrefutable, and Roy realised that he would rather harbour his anger and blame than hear anything Roy had to say.

Clenching his teeth in annoyance, Roy folded his arms across his chest. 'What if I do?' he asked, frowning in puzzlement as Ed flinched where he would have expected a snarl. 'It's clearly upset you, and I'm sorry for that.' Roy took a deep breath, feeling his stomach churn horribly as he forced himself to continue. 'However, I can't help what happens in my dreams, Fullmetal.'

Ed blinked at him, the confusion in his face utterly unmasked. 'Your dream?' He sounded completely disbelieving, and Roy hesitated as Ed swallowed, seeming to realise what he had just admitted as he cleared his throat. 'I mean, yeah, your dream. Pervert.'

Roy's eyebrows lifted in surprise as Ed's cheeks darkened from pale pink to dark, thudding red. Most people would have tried to hide their embarrassment, but Ed lifted his chin as if daring him to comment. The movement shifted the collar of his jacket, slipping the fabric down to reveal the edge of a dark mark.

Memory cut through Roy like a hot knife, and his stomach clenched with sudden desire as he remembered sucking on that flesh – the taste of salt and sweat and Ed on his tongue while that lithe body shifted under him. Cautiously, he reached across the table. Ed's eyes were wary but he did not jerk away as Roy tweaked the collar lower to reveal the bite.

'I think it was _our_ dream,' he murmured, trying to glean anything from Ed's expression: excitement or repulsion, hope or dread, but there was nothing. Perhaps Ed had learned something in all those years of arguing in the office, because his face was motionless, as carefully controlled as Roy had once been able to keep his own mask.

Ed reached up, wrapping cool fingers around Roy's wrist and tugging his collar free with gentle insistence. 'Doesn't matter whose it was,' he growled, jerking his head down to glare at the book in front of him again as Roy settled back in his chair. 'You said it yourself: it's not like we have any control over it. If we did I'd keep you out of my fuckin' head.'

'If you say so,' Roy murmured coolly, knowing Ed heard his almost whisper even if he did not respond. Part of him wanted to drag the truth out of Ed, to get him to admit that he had not been just a bystander in that dream, but an all-too-active participant, but he had the sense to know when to step back. Perhaps if it had not been for the bond, he would have believed Ed's apparent indifference, but while the younger man's face gave little away, the link flickered like lightning, racing with more emotion than Roy could decipher. It was like a summer storm, full of colliding knots and tangles of energy, and perhaps it did not give up Ed's emotional state, but at least it let Roy know that Ed was not as calm as he looked.

Not that Roy was exactly an ice statue, either. His chest felt full of fluttering stars, blazing bright only to gutter as uncertainty swamped him again. All morning he had been afraid that Ed had been nothing but an observer to the dream, but the blemish on his neck told a different story. Roy was not quite sure how that had come to be – how physical marks had permeated reality when they took place in fantasy – but he knew what it meant.

The Ed in his bed had not been some puppet with Fullmetal's face, but the real thing. Perhaps they had only made love within the veils of the subconscious mind, but it had been something they both wanted. Unfortunately, the world of sleep was a simple place, where real concerns faded to nothing. Here, in the plain light of day, confusion and uncertainty held court, and Roy had no idea what to do.

And so, reluctantly, he found himself following Ed's lead. Silence took hold, and the tangle of words that pulsed in his throat went unsaid as the canteen gradually bustled to life. Soldiers wandered in, their steps clumsy as they grabbed their breakfast and the volume of conversation rose like a tide.

Roy got breakfast for both of them, knowing that Ed would eat whatever was put in front of him. Roy was more picky, but there was not a great deal of choice, and he grimaced at the basic, fatty fare than was dolloped unceremoniously on his plate. There was a time when, like the other men and women at the benches, he had spent the night in dorms and the days in the confines of headquarters. Privacy was a scant luxury, and back when he was a major, he had worked hard to save for a home of his own.

His sanctuary was just one of the many small things that Danner's actions had stolen from him, and Roy's scowl deepened as he reclaimed his place opposite Ed and handed over the breakfast tray. 'Hurry up and eat that,' he ordered bluntly, picking up the cutlery and prodding his meal half-heartedly. 'I need you to work out what our next step is. The police and Hughes are hunting for Danner. If we joined that search it would raise too many questions and put us in too much danger, but I'm sick of sitting around and doing nothing.' He stabbed something he hoped was a sausage and took a bite, cringing at the dry, flaky meat before managing to choke it back. 'God, this is repulsive.'

Ed glanced at his plate as if he had not noticed, giving a faint grunt of agreement. 'Don't remember it tasting this bad before,' he muttered, consuming it anyway as he flicked the book shut and shifted his weight. 'You want a starting point? Al recognises what the disciple said to me yesterday. Not what it means, but the words.' Ed huffed an irritated sigh, as if he were reluctant to even mention it. 'Turns out it was carved into one of the beams in our house in Risembool. It might be worth taking a look.'

A few minutes ago, Ed had been impossible to read. Now everything about him, from the tone of his voice to the sag of his shoulders was giving away his emotions. The last thing he wanted to do was get on a train to Risembool and pick through the remains of his family home. From the moment it had become apparent that Hohenheim had something to do with Danner's religious text, Roy had been aware of Ed's bitter anger towards his father, diamond bright amidst the mysterious clouds of his other feelings, and going back to his hometown would only make it worse.

'Do you think there'll be anything left?' Roy asked quietly, feeling his way forward through the conversation like a man in a minefield as Ed's shoulders jerked in a shrug. 'It's been years.'

'That's what I said, but for all we know Dad had something hidden somewhere – something that could tell us exactly what Danner's up to.' He shoved his half-empty plate aside, propping his elbows on the table as he met Roy's gaze. 'It could take us fuckin' weeks to translate that book, and even then we don't know what the bastard priest is planning. I'm sick of always being one step behind, and at least this way we're doing something.'

'We?' Roy asked, rolling his eyes as his brain caught up with what Ed was getting at. 'I'll have to go with you, or we'll end up back in hospital.'

Nodding his head, Ed picked at the scarred tabletop absently, tracing gloved fingers over the rough grain as he spoke. 'Falman reckons we might be able to get as much as twenty miles apart before we pass out, but Risembool's a lot farther out than that. We could always ask someone else to look, but...'

But Roy knew that both he and Ed needed to conduct the search themselves. If they sent someone else, even someone they trusted implicitly, they would always wonder if a stone had been left unturned or a secret unexposed. Besides, it was not some random ruin they would be searching, but the haven of Ed's childhood. That, with all its joys and nightmares, was too personal to be treated with anything but respect.

'I'll check my files and see if I can find an assignment that might act as a cover story for us both.' Roy narrowed his eyes, already thinking through the stack of files on his desk. Risembool was located in a quiet area with very few problems, but there had to be something he could use. Hawkeye would not be happy, though, and neither would Hughes. Finding a reason for two high-powered alchemists to be on the same assignment would be a strain, but Roy doubted he could come up with a feasible excuse to take his command as well.

'I'll see if Matthew has any idea what those words actually mean,' Ed replied, getting stiffly to his feet and tugging his jacket collar self-consciously closer to his neck. 'Don't do us any fucking good as they are.'

Roy nodded, knowing that Ed was not asking permission even as he gave it without question. 'Let me know what you find.'

Ed nodded in reply, turning away before pausing to look back at Roy. His brow was furrowed with uncertainty, and as his lips parted around a question, Roy's heart thudded hard in his chest. Yet something must have made Ed think twice, because he gave a tiny shake of his head before walking away, his hand giving a lazy wave as his voice drifted back to Roy's ears. 'Later, Mustang.'

Ruthlessly, Roy squashed down the cramp of disappointment in his chest, smothering it into silence. He did not know what Ed had been about to say, but he would bet all the money he had that it had something to do with the dream.

Perhaps Ed really did think it was meaningless, as his behaviour suggested, but Roy had his doubts. What they had experienced was too intense for that, too primal. Real desire was impossible to hide – it burned through every disguise to blaze itself across the sky.

Yet there was more to it than just passion. When Ed was by his side, Roy was keenly aware of how centred and confident he felt. It was as if the wobble of his world was stabilised, held up and supported by Ed's strength, and even the confusion of what was happening between them could not knock him off-kilter.

Was the bond really responsible for all of that, or was there something deeper, older, that was only now just starting to flourish?

'Roy, are you all right?' A white-gloved hand waved in front of his face, dove-like in its brightness, and Roy shut his mouth with a click as he looked up at Hughes. 'You looked like you were miles away.'

'Just thinking,' he said, clearing his throat to get rid of the rough edge of his voice before straightening up and giving his friend a critical look. Breakfast with his family was a sacred thing to Hughes, and he was not usually in quite this early if he could help it. 'What are you doing here?'

'Oh, you know me. Busy, busy.' Hughes sat down where Ed had been, placing the steaming mug of coffee he had on the tabletop before handing Roy a sheaf of paper. 'I just picked this up from the police station. I thought you might be interested.'

'A coroner's report?' Roy asked, reading the title before his eyes fell to the name on the front. It was for Major Miller, and something twinged uneasily in Roy's gut. Anders had not been happy with his well-worded request to keep the rest of the military off the scent of anything suspicious. Had she let him down, listening to her own inflexible conscience rather than seeing the bigger picture?

Quickly, he flicked to the pertinent section, raising an eyebrow at cause of death. 'Heart attack?'

'Technically true,' Hughes pointed out with a smile. 'I've worked with Anders before, years ago when she was young and full of good ideals. Looks like she has learned to bend a bit since then.' He took a sip of his coffee, narrowing his eyes as steam caressed his face. 'It's a good sign. She's a powerful ally to have, both now and in the future, but you'll owe her for convincing the coroner to create that.'

Roy carried on reading, hiding his appreciative smile behind the curve of his hand. As a fellow manipulator of words, he could recognise a master at work, and he vaguely wondered how often the man in the morgue had used such brutal, barefaced truths to conceal what was really happening. 'I think I can live with that kind of debt. Do you think this will keep the brass off the scent?'

Hughes shrugged, waving a hand in an innocently dismissive gesture. 'If we're lucky, then yes. More to the point, for the sake of her family, it's just honest enough. Danner's array stopped her heart almost immediately by interrupting the rhythm. Everything else is unnecessary detail. Anders bought you a bit more time with that. Now you just have to put it to good use.'

Setting the report aside, Roy scratched his chin, watching the expression on his best friend's face take on a wary edge. 'Ed has an idea of where we might find something of use, but it's going to involve both of us being out of the office.'

Hughes frowned like someone trying to see the downside and failing. 'If you can find an explanation for it that the Fuhrer will believe, then it could be perfect.' He must have seen Roy's confusion, because he leaned forward in his seat and started to explain. 'Think about it. How important can the Danner case be if you and Ed are dealing with other things? The police can get on with looking for him, and we can deflect the attention of the military elsewhere for a while.'

'There won't be a “we”, Maes. Two alchemists on assignment is questionable enough. Not even I can make the brass look the other way while I take my command along as well. Ed and I will have to go alone.'

Behind Hughes' glasses, those green eyes were disbelieving, and Roy watched his friend shake his head in a quick, jerky motion. 'No. Are you out of your mind?' He set his coffee mug down heavily, making a few soldiers look their way before they returned to their meals. Hughes' voice fell to a hiss, and Roy stifled a sigh as his friend repeated every uncertainty and fear that circled his own mind.

'Danner is after Ed, and he'll probably kill you to break the bond. If he gets a chance to get his hands on either of you, you won't just be locked up in a cell or stuffed in an array, Roy. For you, it'll be game over, and somehow I doubt Ed will survive Danner's plans much longer.' He jabbed a finger at the tabletop meaningfully. 'You're safe here, but out there you need good people to watch your back.'

'Because that's been working great so far,' Roy murmured sarcastically, wincing when Hughes looked hurt. 'I'm just saying that no one is infallible, Maes, that's all. People we trusted have been turned against us, and we fell victim to the element of surprise. Danner's lost that advantage now. We're more cautious, and that's just going to have to be enough.'

Hughes’ jaw clenched, and he met Roy's eyes with a disbelieving glare. 'You expect me and your men to stay here while you and Ed go – where? You've not even told me that, yet.'

'Risembool. Ed and Al think their dad might have left something behind in their home, or what's left of it, anyway.' He sighed as Hughes' expression darkened further. 'I know it sounds like we're clutching at straws, but it's all we've got. If I could stay here, I would, but Risembool's too far away. The bond will take me and Ed down before he gets there.'

He ran a hand through his hair, breathing out a heavy sigh as he glanced at the clock, seeing the hands inching their way towards eight in the morning. 'Look, you don't have to like it, but it's got to be done. If you can come up with a way for us to take an escort without people asking questions, then fine.'

A sad nod was his only answer, and Roy got to his feet, leaning his weight on his hands for a moment as he added, 'I know you're worried, but neither Ed nor I are helpless. If Danner comes for us, then we'll fight.'

'I know,' Hughes replied quietly, tipping the dregs of his coffee from side to side in the bottom of his mug. 'I'm just worried he won't give you a chance.' With a wave of his hand, he gestured towards the door, straightening his slumped shoulders and tugging absently at his jacket. 'Go on. See if you can find an assignment that'll get you and Ed out of the city. I'll work out what can be done about keeping the two of you safe.'

Roy ducked his head in a nod of thanks before turning away, easing his way through the canteen and towards the corridors. He knew that Hughes would not be happy with the idea of him and Ed going anywhere alone, but Roy hoped – rather than believed – that he would find a viable way to provide them with any kind of escort.

Besides, even now the question of trust lingered. Danner had proved that no one was beyond his reach, and Roy found himself looking at his men with more caution than faith. Once, he would have put his life in their hands without question, but the damage of the priest and his disciples went deep. When Roy thought about it, there was now only one person other than himself that he could trust with all his heart.

Ed.

Logically, his mind knew that only the bond gave him the luxury of such faith. It allowed him to see enough of Ed's emotions and state of mind to know any consideration of betrayal long before it happened. Besides, Ed was as heavily involved in Danner's madness as Roy. There was nothing for him to gain by handing them over to the priest, and nothing in the world, from words to arrays, could convince Ed otherwise. He was too pure for that.

Yet even before they had been tied so close together, Roy had found himself placing his faith in Ed at unexpected moments. Before he had arrived so wildly in Ed’s life, Roy’s men had been his solid foundations, unquestionable in their loyalty. Yet despite Ed’s volatility and unpredictable methods, he had not so much earned Roy’s trust as demanded it, and for some inexplicable reason, Roy had handed it over.

Pausing outside the office door, Roy stared blankly at the handle, too lost in his thoughts to connect with anything so mundane. For days he had feared that the bond was changing the way he felt, influencing his behaviour and reactions to such an extent that he was losing all definition of who he was. Yet now that Roy thought about it, that did not seem to be the case at all. It was more as if the bond was taking the seeds of emotions and grains of long-stifled truth and allowing them to flourish, unfettered by the plagues of denial that had kept them crushed for so long.

He had trusted Ed long before the bond had ever taken hold, and if he was honest with himself, the first grains of other emotions had been there too, scouring at him like a sand storm. Was it possible that the connection between them was simply bringing everything into sharper focus?

Was it having the same effect on Ed?

‘Sir?’

Roy jerked his head up in surprise, trying to maintain a dignified expression when he saw Havoc standing at his side. The lieutenant’s expression was tired at best, and the stark white of a fresh bandage was wound around his head, making his hair stick up at odd angles, but the concern pinching those bright blue eyes was genuine. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, Lieutenant,’ Roy replied in a brisk voice, reaching out for the door handle and pushing his way into the awakening office. ‘I was just thinking.’

Havoc looked doubtful, and Roy wondered how long the lieutenant had been watching him. To be honest, it was a mercy that only one of his own men had observed him. There were many among his peers who would take the opportunity to discredit his name. In the backstabbing environment of the military, anything as simple as being lost in the turning realisations of your mind could be a target for attack.

Bypassing the coffee pot, Roy headed straight into the office, glaring critically at the piles of paperwork on his desk. He received so much useless information, but somewhere there had to be something that could excuse both him and Ed going east. As long as it was in the general direction of Risembool, then it would do.

Setting to work, he began sorting through the folders and memos, scanning each one before discarding it. By the time Hawkeye tapped respectfully on the door, he was almost at the bottom of the pile and still empty-handed. ‘What is it, Lieutenant?’ Roy always tried to keep his annoyance focused on its true target, but there was no denying the terseness of his words - along with a certain Ed-like petulance - and he cast an apologetic look in her direction before his eyes fell on the slim collection of files in her hands.

‘Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes said you were hunting for an assignment in the East,’ she said, and Roy could tell she was censuring her disapproval by the flatness of her voice. ‘These came through earlier in the week. You asked me to pass them on to Major Armstrong, but there’s one that might be suitable.’

She selected a folder and handed it over, summarising all the while. ‘The Fuhrer’s growing uneasy about East City. It seems to be too good to be true, and he’s ordered an inspection. At the same time, there have been reports of strange alchemical phenomena on the western side of the city.’ Hawkeye squared her shoulders, and her voice dipped a little lower, as if she were dissatisfied with her own plan. ‘You could go to Risembool first, and then accompany one another on your tasks in East City.' She straightened her shoulders, hugging the folders closer to her chest as she added, 'With all due respect, sir, neither of you should be going anywhere alone.’

Roy flicked open the dossier, skimming through the details with practiced ease as he got to his feet, moving to stand at the Lietenant's side. It was not exactly perfect, and would require him and Ed to spend more than one night away from the safety of Central Command, but from the look of things, it was as good as it was going to get. ‘Hughes is working on finding us an escort of some kind. Something the military won’t look at twice, but I think he’s struggling.’

‘I’ll book you and Edward on the last train east, sir. That will give him as much time as possible to come up with an answer.’ Hawkeye’s compromise was logical, but the set of her jaw and the thin, flat line of her mouth told him she was deeply unhappy with the situation. Her lips parted as if to add something, but Al’s voice cut off whatever she was about to say.

‘I don’t see why you won’t let me go with you! I’m not part of the military. No one’s going to care what I do.’

Roy shifted sideways, giving himself a better view of the office as he took in Al’s frustrated profile. Ed was by one of the desks, scribbling something down and doing his best to ignore his brother’s complaint, but as the silence dragged on he eventually lifted his head, his expression one of grim determination.

‘The army won’t care, but Danner will. He’s already tried to bind you once, and fuck knows what he’ll do if he gets his hands on you again. You stay here.’

‘It’s you he’s after! You’re the one who should be staying here.’ Al crossed his arms over his chest, his nostrils flaring around an angry breath before he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Fine. Do what you want. Maybe I’ll just get on a train and visit Winry.’

Roy leaned on the doorframe, knowing exactly what Al was playing at. Unless Ed could come up with a compelling reason, nothing would stop his brother from following them. Roy was surprised he had not thought of it before. He was so used to thinking of Al as part of the team that he forgot he was beyond the army’s purview: a free spirit to move and act as he pleased without the restraints of orders and hierarchy.

‘You do that,’ Ed muttered, looking back at what he was working on. ‘This time of year, Winry’ll be in Rush Valley.’

The phone let out a shrill ring, and Havoc answered it, his voice too low to make out as Al scowled, shaking his head. Stubborn lines etched themselves into his face, and Roy knew Ed had already lost this battle. Alphonse had already made up him mind. Yet before he could open his mouth to order Ed to let his brother come along, Havoc hung up the phone, lifting his voice so everyone could hear him.

‘Lieutenant Colonel Hughes suggested I take some leave,’ he said, a faint smile tilting his lips as he pressed a palm dramatically to his forehead. ‘This is worse than it looks, and my parents are worried sick. You know, back _east_ …’

Roy rolled his eyes in disbelief as, by his side, Hawkeye’s eyebrow lifted fractionally, a sure sign of approval. ‘Granted, Lieutenant,’ she said quickly. ‘If you hurry, I’m sure you’ll catch the last train. We’ll see you in a few days.’

With a jaunty salute, Havoc turned on his heel, slipping out of the office door as Roy glanced over at Ed. ‘Al should come too. He and Havoc aren’t exactly ideal protection for us, but it’s better than going in alone. If the priest or his disciples choose to attack, then at least we’ll have backup.’

‘A soldier with a head injury and an alchemist still recovering from Danner’s last little game?’ Ed asked incredulously. ‘Some backup, Mustang.'

'Better than nothing,' Al replied, casting a quick smile in Roy's direction before following in Havoc's wake. 'I'll pack for us both, Brother. Don't miss the train.'

'I won't,' Ed said irritably, glaring after his brother's departing back before transplanting the full force of his annoyance onto Roy. 'If anything happens to him because you let him come along, you won't have to worry about Danner. _I'll_ kill you.'

'Alphonse can take care of himself.' Roy ambled over to the desk, placing the file down on its scarred surface. 'I know you're not happy about taking them along, but there is safety in numbers, and we can watch them as much as they do us. Wouldn't you rather Al was with you where you can keep him safe?'

It was a risky question, one that stood as much chance of Ed punching him in the face as seeing reason, but Fullmetal merely narrowed his eyes, his jaw moving as if he were grinding his teeth before he muttered, 'Fucker.' The insult was laced with grudging respect, as if Ed was impressed, rather than angry at Roy's subtle manipulations. 'Have you even found us a reason to go east yet?'

Roy pushed the dossier closer to Ed, who picked it up and flicked through the paperwork, barely even skimming the details of the inspection before his eyes were dragged downwards to the alchemical phenomenon. 'This is real? You didn't make it up or anything?'

'I don't make up assignments, Ed. I was going to pass it on to Armstrong – it seems benign – but since you need to be in the region anyway then you might as well take a look. The inspection will take an hour or two, and that...'

'Five minutes.' Ed shrugged, dropping the file back on the desk. 'If that description's accurate then it's probably just an old array bleeding off energy somewhere, or an echo from something big that happened years ago. We can be there and back in no time.'

'Sir?' Hawkeye held out a pile of paperwork, looking meaningfully at the clock before handing it over. 'The last train leaves at four p.m., and these must be done before you go.'

Stifling a long-suffering sigh, Roy accepted the pile with relatively good grace. It weighed heavy in his arms as he turned away, leaving Ed to his endless quest for answers as he retreated to the sanctuary of his office. The fire danced joyfully in the grate, and the worn leather chair accepted him with a soft creak as he settled at his desk and reached for his pen.

Minutes slipped by, ushered along by the flow of ink on paper and the rhythm of the clock on the mantle. Roy allowed himself to become lost amidst the dense world of bureaucracy, and the click of the door opening before swinging softly shut barely registered in his mind. He did not look up immediately, expecting Hawkeye to place more work in front of him and leave. However, when no one announced their presence and no dossiers were added to the pile on his desk, Roy lifted his eyes to examine the room.

At first glance, there was no one there. The expanse of floor between himself and the door was empty, and no one loomed ominously over his desk. Instinctively, the knuckles of his left hand tightened, ready to ignite a spark if necessary as he scowled around at the familiar furniture.

'It's me, you idiot. I needed somewhere quiet to work.'

Ed's rough growl came from the direction of the couch, and Roy craned his neck to see him sprawled gracelessly along its length. He had never known Ed to enter his office so quietly before, but now he was lying on his stomach with one book open in front of him and several more balanced on the edge of the coffee table. A stack of notes slumped precariously over one arm of the sofa, and Ed had not even bothered to take off his boots before climbing all over the furniture.

'Make yourself at home,' Roy murmured sarcastically, rolling his eyes when Ed did not bother to respond. Normally, any kind of company was detrimental to Roy's concentration – something to pull his attention away from his work – but not this time. The bond purred happily against his skin as the jagged edges of his emotions smoothed away. Perhaps the shared dream still lingered like an elephant in the room, but Roy was able to ignore it and enjoy Ed's quiet presence while he worked.

Hours marched by, and a late lunch at his desk meant Roy was able to finish his paperwork in time to hand it over to Hawkeye. The lieutenant gave him a faint smile as she passed over a small suitcase, no doubt packed with everything he would need. 'A car's waiting for you. The train leaves in half an hour, sir. You might want to hurry.'

'Ed, come on,' he ordered, shrugging on his coat and checking his pockets for his wallet. Over on the couch, Ed did not so much as stir. 'Fullmetal, we'll miss our train if you don't hurry up. What are you working on?' Striding across the room, Roy reached out and closed the book with a thump, almost trapping Ed's nose between the pages. A smirk tilted his lips as the younger man emerged from his fugue with a familiar scowl, a snarled insult already trembling on his lips.

'No time,' Roy cut in before Ed could get started. 'You can tell me about it on the way. Come on.'

Ed grumped and grumbled his way into a sitting position, scooping up papers and books before brushing past Roy and stepping into the outer office. Al and Havoc were both waiting at the door, bags in hand. An unlit cigarette twitched between Havoc's lips and Al kept glancing nervously at the clock, but before Roy could even open his mouth Scieszka came barging through the door, her face flushed from running.

'Got it,' she wheezed, dropping a single page on top of the stack of books in Ed's arms as she tried to get her breath back. 'I'm sorry it took us so long, but we're almost certain that's what the saying means. It's an older version of Cerule than the book, but it's got to be related somehow.'

Roy watched Ed squint at the page, the frown on his brow turning from petulant to thoughtful. 'Thanks, Scieszka. Maybe it'll help us work out what we're looking for.'

'We really need to leave, sir,' Hawkeye commented, nodding respectfully to Scieszka as she stepped out of the door and into the corridor, handing over some car keys to Havoc as she set off at a quick march. Roy bid his men a quick farewell as he followed, leaving Ed and Al to bring up the rear. He could hear them talking in quiet voices, and he did not bother to be subtle as he dropped back, falling in on Ed's right-hand side as Al walked along on the left.

'...translate what Miller said,' Ed was explaining. 'It looked similar to the book – same root language at least. Thought it might be useful to know before we headed east.'

Al reached out, taking the page and absorbing the text, a frown gathering on his face as he read it aloud. _'Saffron soul, sunlit power. Golden Gate's final hour.'_

'Sounds like a poem,' Roy murmured, turning the corner of the corridor and picking up his pace towards the front door of Central Command. 'Or a riddle. That's what was cut into the lintel in your old home?'

Ed nodded silently, shifting the pile of books more securely in his arms as he trotted down the steps to where a sleek black car was waiting. He dumped them unceremoniously in the boot next to the bags, face still grim and tense as Roy watched him slip into the backseat along with his brother.

Fullmetal was clearly not in the mood for questions, and besides, Roy was not sure he would offer up any answers if pressed. Crushing a worried sigh, he slipped into the passenger seat next to Havoc, doing up his seatbelt and winding down the window to receive Hawkeye's parting words. She bent at the waist, keeping her voice low. 'Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes has made sure there are secure lines open for you in East City. If anything goes wrong, let us know and we'll come running.'

'Thank you, Lieutenant.'

Hawkeye nodded, patting the roof of the car as she stepped away. 'Take care, sir.'

With an idle salute of farewell, Havoc pulled away, steering the car competently through the complex as he headed towards the gates. Slowly, the blank facade of headquarters slid out of view. Sentries waved them wearily over the perimeter, and the bustle of Central's streets skimmed past the window, but Roy was barely sparing the view a moment's attention. His eyes were fixed on the rear-view mirror and Ed's reflected image in the glass.

Ed's fingertips were splayed across his brow, head down-bent and eyes shielded. His shoulders were slumped, the image of a man beaten down by the sheer weight of the unknown, and Roy could feel the sharp, high whine of tension seeping back along the bond. All this was dragging at Ed like an anchor, pulling him further from the light and losing him in the shadow of his own confusion.

Ed always took things personally, whether he needed to or not, but Danner's obsession was striking at the heart of his life, dragging his past into the present and touching every facet with its malignance. Death stalked the people he knew. Five had already been killed by the priest's hand, and the guilt of that was only the start of what burdened Ed so heavily.

Roy closed his eyes for a moment before looking out of the windscreen, glaring a challenge at the blank horizon. There was nothing he could do to help – no comfort he could offer. All he could do was hunt for answers, and he prayed that, somewhere in the wreckage of the Elrics’ family home, they would finally find what they were looking for.


	17. Chapter 17

Ed scrubbed at his eyes, trying to bring his exhausted mind into some kind of focus, but his thoughts were disjointed and fractured by darkness, utterly uncooperative. The train had made it into East City late in the evening, and even though he would rather get the search over with, he could not deny the logic of Roy’s suggestion to leave it until the next day. Daylight would make it easier to find what they were looking for, and there was less chance of an ambush once the sun was up.

So they had made their way to their rooms in East Command, and Ed had spent a short, shattered night at the mercy of his nightmares. Coming back here always dumped them at the forefront of his mind. Even though he tried to smother them, they still paraded across the screen of his sub-consciousness.

Of course, Roy had seen them all, but last night had been different than before. Previously, they had always been spectators, and each dream was clearly defined. Yesterday, Ed’s terrors had blended into Roy’s: bloody arrays, broken ribs, sand, sparks and sin…

‘Whose stupid idea was it to avoid the roads?’ Roy growled behind him, and Ed glanced back to see him trying to pick his way through the muddy field they were currently crossing.

‘Yours,’ Ed retorted when Al and Havoc remained diplomatically silent. ‘You said there was no way to stop Danner from knowing we’d gone east, but if we could avoid people here, then at least he might not realise we’d come back to Risembool.’ Ed walked through a filthy puddle without a second thought, knowing that Mustang, the picky city-born git, would fastidiously go around it.

He could feel Roy's sullen annoyance like a storm cloud behind his shoulder, caused by the tiredness and stress of the previous night and the day ahead. If it were not for the bond, he doubted Roy would be on such a short fuse, but because of all Ed's doubts and fears, a foul mood was boiling between them.

So far, both Al and Havoc had the sense to leave them alone on the walk from the station back towards their old home. Ed doubted that would last much longer. Havoc was not known for his subtlety, and Al was always trying to help. Sooner or later one of them was going to stick their oar in, and Ed was not sure who would snarl at them first, him or Mustang.

'How much farther?' Roy asked in a flat voice, the tight wire of his temper audible in his words. 'It's not exactly a pleasant country stroll, is it?'

'About another mile,' Al replied soothingly as he clambered over yet another fence. ‘Can we stop in and visit Granny Pinako, or don’t we have the time?'

Ed followed his brother, considering the question as Roy and Havoc both negotiated the fence before squelching into the mud on the other side. 'It's probably not a good idea, Al. I don't want to make her a target if I can help it.’ He sighed, squinting at the horizon absent-mindedly. ‘I'm surprised Danner didn't already come here and pick people off. It's no secret that Dad lived here. You'd think he'd try and see if Dad's influence rubbed off on anyone he knew.'

Al wrinkled his nose, smothering a smile as Roy hissed a quiet but impressive curse about leaking boots. 'It’s been years since Dad was here for any length of time. Besides, he's been gone for a while now.'

'Dead, you mean.' Ed noticed his little brother's wince and felt a tiny stab of guilt for his bad-tempered bluntness. Al had always tried to see the good side of their father, and had never blamed him with such ferocity as Ed. 'Sorry.'

'I know, Brother.' Al sighed, watching him carefully before looking critically back at Mustang. Eventually, he spoke a little louder, including their entire group in the conversation. 'Why are you and the general so bad tempered? Did something happen?'

Ed rolled his eyes, clenching the hands in his pockets into fists as defensiveness and anger warred through him. Al was just trying to help, but that did not mean Ed was going to welcome the interference. 'Didn't sleep well, that's all.'

'Nightmares,' Roy added with conversation-ending finality, but the others ignored it as they picked their way across the ridge and furrow of the ploughed field, slipping and slithering on the treacherous ground.

'Take a gun,' Havoc said lightly, shifting the small bag of supplies on his shoulder. 'I've got a friend who tells himself over and over before he falls asleep that he has a shotgun so he's safe. When he falls asleep and the dreams turn bad, the gun appears and he can shoot the hell out of nightmares.' The lieutenant shrugged as Ed gave him a dubious glare. 'He swears by it. There's a proper name for it, but I can't remember what.'

'Bullshit?' Ed suggested, snorting in disbelief when Al corrected him.

‘It’s called lucid dreaming. The sleeper gains control and guides the course of the dream, normally by having a concept at the forefront of their mind when they fall asleep.’ Al looked over at Ed, his eyes enthusiastic and earnest. ‘They've done studies into it and everything, Brother. Some people think it really works.'

'It might not stop you from dreaming bad things, Boss, but it could give you more control over it,' Havoc pointed out, jumping over the last furrow and reaching out to open the large five-bar gate, checking the pastureland beyond for livestock before slipping through.

'I've heard of people who picture a safe place before they drift off.' Al looked from Ed to Mustang and back again. 'If you're still having problems with shared dreams, then maybe creating a middle ground would work?’

Ed shook his head, not even bothering to hide his scepticism. 'It's a load of crap, Al. There's no scientific proof of it, despite the so-called studies.' Kicking at a dandelion, Ed watched the white fluffy seeds drift away, catching in the grass and floating higher in the sky. 'Breaking the bond will solve the dream thing,' he added quietly, trying to ignore the flare of uncertainty that stuttered beneath his ribs. 'Nothing else.'

Al's silence spoke volumes, and Ed glanced over to see those golden eyes fixed on him, full of annoyance. 'If you say so, Brother,' he said at last, looking up at the cloud-scattered sky and the sun climbing up towards its zenith. 'But maybe you should try it anyway? Just in case.' He picked up his speed, walking faster until he was beside Havoc, leaving Ed and Roy to bring up the rear in thick, moody silence.

For a while, the only sound other than Al and Havoc’s light-hearted chatter was the rustle of long pasture grass around their feet and the susurrus of the wind. Ed rounded his shoulders against the chill that lingered in the air, looking sideways as Mustang finally spoke.

‘What if we can’t break the bond?’

Ed turned his head, trying to get a better look at Roy’s face and understand what he was seeing. Normally, he would have shrugged off those fears. Failure was not something he often considered, after all. Yet this time, he hesitated, because something in Roy’s voice suggested that the question he asked was not exactly what was preying on his mind.

It certainly was not what lingered in Ed’s thoughts, as formless as smoke and equally addicting. Whether or not they could break the bond was no longer his primary concern. With every day, the issue was changing, and what Ed found himself thinking more and more was: What if we don’t want to break it?

He had tried to convince himself that it was about safety. As long as he was tied to Roy, he was no good to Danner. For all its annoyances the bond was worth that much. However, that reason lingered on the surface of deeper, more turbulent thoughts. Despite having his dreams splayed open for Roy’s scrutiny and constantly being aware of him at his side, even when he was in a different room, Ed was beginning to grow familiar with the sensations. Where he had initially rejected Roy’s invasion utterly, it was now a struggle to remember how it had ever been any different.

Did Roy feel the same way?

‘You think we should try it?’ he mumbled, scowling at the grass and wildflowers beneath his feet. ‘The stupid lucid thing?’

Roy tucked his hands in his pockets, the white of his gloves hidden from sight as he narrowed his eyes at the horizon. He looked like a man who was choosing his next words with care, and it was several seconds before he replied. 'It's incredible what the mind can do. We already know that we can both be willing participants in the same dream, just look at the night before last.'

The blush hit Ed's face instantly, painfully hot, and he turned to look the other way, staring at the flat, rural horizon that was interrupted only by the occasional tree. Of course Roy would not leave that alone. The nightmares were left undiscussed, thorns in both their sides, but the sex dream was something Roy had to pick apart and understand.

At first Ed had feared Mustang's revulsion and censure, but in the canteen it had become obvious that was not how Roy felt. Instead he seemed, not happy, but something less certain. Something Ed did not dare try to pin down. Hope, as treacherous as always, had already lit its star in the shadows of his chest, and feeding it would only make matters worse. At most that dream suggested a level of mutual attraction — an idea that Ed found hard enough to comprehend — but that was all. Talking about it, dragging it out into the light, what good could that do?

'So what?' he growled. 'You think we should just picture a fuckin' happy place and that's where we'll end up?'

'Anything is better than what we went through last night.' Roy's words snagged on the air like barbed wire, far heavier with emotion that Ed had heard before Danner's bond had taken hold. He was not sure if it was getting harder for Roy to shield his feelings, or if he had simply stopped trying in Ed's presence, but the darkness in his voice was enough to make him look back at Mustang, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out.

Roy's skin was normally pale, but now it seemed almost transparent. Every shadow and line of strain cast its mark, and those eyes, normally alight with the plans that swirled around his head, were flat and haunted. He looked how Ed felt: as if he had barely survived the night. Another like that was simply too much to bear.

'I guess it won't hurt to try,' Ed said at last, flicking the wing of Mustang's sleeve. It was as close to touching the man as he would allow himself, and something in Ed's heart squeezed softly to see Roy's weary smile of gratitude. 'Still don't think it'll work, though.'

Looking ahead, Ed's heart sank in his chest, dragged lower by the sight of the burned house on the horizon. Even from here he could see the spars of beams like strange, straight ribs. What had once been a house was now just a tangle of timbers, and it hurt to think that it had been a place of happiness and innocence. Even after his dad left, it had still been home, broken maybe, but not dead. Now it was a shattered epitaph to his childhood, nothing more.

He felt Roy shift closer to his side, near enough that their shoulders were almost brushing against one another as the pace of their group slowed. Reverence was instinctive, and Ed found himself wondering what it felt like for Roy and Havoc. Was it nothing but a pile of beams to them, or could they feel something lingering in the air, an aftertaste of brief happiness and bitter pain?

Ed knew Al felt it – remembered it – because as soon as his little brother looked back over his shoulder, Ed could see how pale he was, eyes huge and bright in his ashen face. It was only a brief glance, a moment of shared hurt at the memories that crowded through both their minds, but even as they approached the wreck of the house, Ed knew he would be going into the basement alone. No way was he dragging Al down into the dark that had borne their worst nightmares.

Roy cleared his throat quietly, and Ed heard his fingertips rasp together absently — the way they always did when he was thinking. A moment later, Mustang raised his voice, as much the general out here as he was in Central.

'Alphonse, I'd like you to stay above ground with Havoc,’ he said. ‘Normally your place would be with Ed, but it’s too exposed for either of us to stand around in plain sight, and I don’t want to leave the lieutenant standing guard up here alone.’

Al nodded, and Ed did not miss the phantom of relief that ghosted over his younger brother’s face. He did not know if Roy had picked up his concerns via the bond, or if logic dictated the choice, but either way, he was thankful.

Stepping over one of the beams, Ed worked his way towards the clean, dark cut of the basement where it cleaved into the ground. Grass and wildflowers grew amidst the wreckage: life in the ashes of a funeral pyre. Ed knew that in a few more years the remains of their house would be hidden — beams lost to rot and undergrowth while the steps to the cellar were lost from sight and the junk within was left to fade to nothing.

Time and the elements would finish what he and Al had started and wipe the house from the face of the world, but for now there was still enough of a skeleton left to stir Ed's memories, good and bad.

He had been back here before, hunting for information in his search for the Stone, but he remembered then how hard he had tried to pretend he was a stranger, to not see the fragments of his old life scattered around him. Now little things caught his eye: a fragment of a plate, the gleam of a fork like a fish in the sea, warped and twisted from the fire's long gone heat. He remembered his mother washing them both, slim hands amidst the soap bubbles, smiling at some joke his father made....

Recoiling from the memory, Ed scuffed his way towards the steps, pausing at the top and peering down into the gloom. Once there had been a doorway here, but the blaze had taken care of that. Now there was little more than a steady descent into darkness on rough stone steps that, apart from the occasional scorch mark where he was standing, remained untouched.

'Be careful! ' Al called out. 'We don't know how unstable it is. Even if they weren't touched by the fire, the supports down there might have rotted by now.

'We'll keep our eyes open,' Roy promised, his fingers clicking as he summoned a flame into life. At first it was shielded, its light uncertain, but Ed felt a gentle tug on the bond, and the light brightened, going from ruddy crimson to white and clean as the glow reached out farther. The darkness fled, ebbing back like a tide to reveal the familiar lines and shapes of his father's workroom.

Instantly, Ed’s eyes were pulled to the centre of the floor, his memory painting in the missing array as easily as if he had conceived it that morning. Of course, it had been washed away years ago. The blood got to most of it, painting the floor with more gore than should find its way into any family home, and Winry had told Ed how Al had scrubbed away every sign of it, his armour squeaking with each movement.

Inexorably, Ed's eyes were drawn to the junk that lined the walls. Somehow, he had expected it all to be gone. Rusted or stolen or simply annihilated by the flames, but back there in the sheltered crook of the wall it seemed intact. Weapons and shields, weird machines and tin boxes so full of paper they barely shut. There were books, too, little but ash between broken, charred covers: easy victims for the voracious fire. His dad's desk had gone the same way, close to the steps and vulnerable. Glassy splodges on the floor were all that remained of beakers and test-tubes, and the struts embedded in the walls were blackened.

Turning around, Ed looked back at the stairs. Roy was standing on the bottom step, his eyes lingering on the bare, clean floor as if he were seeing something else entirely. Was it Roy's own memories of his first time here or the choking coils of Ed's nightmares that made him look like that, pale and grim?

'Looks like the fire didn't burn long down here,' Roy said at last, his voice sounding distant. Abruptly, he seemed to find his way back to the present day, and his gaze took on a thoughtful edge as he glanced around the room. 'Not much to burn, and not much air either. That's probably why all that's still here.' He gestured to the metalwork piled up against the wall as he stepped down onto the basement floor, stopping at Ed's side. 'Where did Al think the inscription was?'

Ed gestured up to the beam that crossed the base of the steps. It had been the top edge of a doorway once, but all the rest of it had burned away. 'We're not going to get a fucking thing off that,' Ed muttered, stretching up and scraping his thumb across the charcoaled surface. Flakes of ash drifted down and the wood cracked beneath his touch, but he could just make out the vague shape of the letters Al remembered. 'Don't even know what we're looking for.'

'Something that tells us why your dad had those words etched into your house, I suppose. Maybe something more about what they mean?' Roy shrugged, reaching out for a piece of charcoal and drawing a quick, simple array on a clean bit of floor. Ed watched, knowing an easy fire array when he saw one, and raised an eyebrow as Roy transferred the glowing flame in his palm to the centre of the design. It stuttered for a moment, and then grew a little, forcing away the last of the gloom and leaving Roy with his hands free.

'You could have just clapped, you know,' Ed pointed out, smiling at Roy's faint look of embarrassment.

'I'm so used to doing it the long way.' He waved a hand at the array on the floor, turning towards the piles of junk with a sigh. Some of it had fused together from the fire's heat, warping into interesting shapes, and most of the metal was tempered with strange rainbow patterns. 'You don't remember anything more about the inscription? Anything your dad said that might give us a clue where to start?'

Ed shook his head, ignoring the ashy remains of the desk and turning towards the metalwork, giving it a hard glare before reaching out to remove a shield. 'I was a kid back then, Mustang. Even if he did say something, I probably wasn't paying attention, and when we saw him again...' They had all been too busy to reminisce on the past for long. Back then, the present had demanded everyone's attention.

It was slow work, picking through the stuff his dad had collected over the years. He gave them little more than a glance before pitching them aside, but Roy kept tipping each one to the lantern light, making interested, curious noises at the things he had unearthed. Some were twisted and fused, altered almost beyond recognition by the fire, but the farther they got, the more pristine the items were: not just unscorched, but rust-free despite being exposed to the elements in a damp old cellar for almost a decade.

'Shouldn't this all be falling apart by now?' Ed mused out loud, picking up a breastplate with strange engravings on it and giving it a critical look. 'This is brass, but it's not even tarnished.'

Roy leaned in to look over his shoulder, his breath tickling Ed's cheek as he examined the metal. 'I suppose it's sheltered down here, and the other stuff might have protected it, but I doubt it would be in a state like this unless it had some other kind of protection.' He bent down, picking up a metal box with a broken hinge. Ed felt his surprise at the same moment that he heard Roy's in-drawn breath, and he glanced down at the floor.

'That'd do it.' Ed took in the part of the array he could see, reading it with ease as his mind raced to fill in the blanks of what he could not see. 'It's to keep the elements in balance. Would have done fuck all about the fire, but after that I guess it kept the air right to stop this all from going to shit.' He scratched his head absently, wrinkling his nose doubtfully. 'Guess that means there's something here Dad wanted to keep safe.'  
'But what?' Roy looked around at the piles meaningfully. 'There are a lot of things in here, and if we don't know what we're looking for, we could just pass over it and never even notice.'

With an irritated noise, Ed hefted more artefacts out of the way, shoving them aside carelessly as he bit out an answer. 'Alchemy basics, Mustang. The strongest effect of the transmutation is always at the middle of the array. That's where we'll find whatever Dad left behind.' He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but Roy did not even hesitate as he gave Ed a hand, pushing stuff out of the way as more and more lines of the array were revealed, its sweeping circle arcing out on either side of them.

It was not drawn in chalk, but scored in deep lines that had then been filled with what looked like wax to keep them intact. The more they uncovered, the more Ed became aware of the faint prickle of alchemy. While it was not ancient, Ed knew the array had probably been active since his dad built this place. For as long as Ed could remember, there had been stuff piled up in this corner. Now it turned out that it had been sitting on a secret all this time.

The lines were becoming more concentrated, and Ed held his breath as he lifted up a solid, bland box made of what felt like iron. Its weight dragged at his muscles, and underneath its sturdy base was the blank, protective circumference of the array's centre. Whatever his dad had been trying to protect had to be inside the box, and Ed narrowed his eyes at it critically. No lock, no markings, no alchemical traps – nothing to show it up as anything but junk.

'Guess this is it,' Ed muttered doubtfully, stepping over the mess they had made towards the bottom of the steps where the light was better. 'Doesn't look like much.'

'Hiding things in plain sight's often the most effective way of keeping something safe. If it weren't for the array, we would never even consider that there was anything significant inside,' Roy pointed out, folding his arms and leaning his shoulder against the wall. 'Are you going to open it?'

Ed shot him an annoyed look as he shifted his grip, closing his fingers on the lid and easing it open. He could feel Roy's anxiety and excitement echoing on the bond, but as soon as Ed held up the box for Roy to see, it turned to oily disappointment.

'Empty.'

With a huff of irritation, Ed let the lid fall open, completely hanging back off its hinges to catch the faint daylight from upstairs as he looked back at the other stuff in the basement. 'Maybe it's something else. Maybe we missed something.'

'Ed...' Roy's hushed voice dragged his attention back, and he looked around to see Roy leaning in, close enough to touch as he stared at the inside face of the box’s lid. 'I don't think this is as empty as it looks.'

'What are you talking about?' Ed demanded, his question fading as something, some faint blue spark gleamed on the dull metal before fading from sight. There, etched so shallow that it barely left a mark, he could see a tiny array, brimming with detail. Ed reached out with his index finger to trace the lines, not realising that Roy had done the same thing until their fingertips touched the iron lid, and the sudden sharp bite of alchemy shot along his nerves.

Power crackled outwards, snapping like a whip as it crawled across the floor and up the walls. Sparks fell like rain as dust pattered down from the ceiling and the struts creaked out a warning.

'Ed, look out!'

He barely had time to gasp in a breath of dust-choked air before Roy grabbed him, hauling him forcefully away from where he was standing. He collided painfully with Roy's chest as strong arms wrapped around his back and curved over the top of his head, shielding him as something wooden snapped above their heads and thudded solidly to the floor.

Just like that, the alchemy died, fading away and leaving Ed and Roy panting in fear. He could feel Roy's heart thudding against his where their chests were pressed together, and the arms around him were as tight and sure as Ed's grip on Mustang's jacket. Nervous sweat moistened Ed's spine, and his muscles ached with adrenaline. He expected more rubble to follow but, for now, the collapse had ceased, and he dragged his head up to look at Roy.

Before he could ask if Mustang was all right, Al called down the steps, his voice high. 'Brother? Are you all right? What happened? Do you need help?'

Swallowing back the taste of grit, Ed raised his voice, looking at Roy for confirmation as he said, 'We're fine, Al. Set off some kind of array and it shook the place about a bit, that's all.'

'Yeah, well you might not want to hang around,' Havoc cut in, his form nothing but a silhouette at the top of the steps. 'The ground's looking kind of sunken. There's no telling how much longer the roof'll hold.'

'Stay where you are and give us five minutes,' Roy ordered, his hands tightening around Ed's back before he let go. 'If it subsides further, shout, but that array went off for a reason.'

Stepping away from Roy, Ed ran a shaky hand through his hair, preferring to look around at the destruction than meet the dark eyes he could feel watching him. The lantern had gone out, leaving them in darkness, but Ed could make out the walls and the ceiling, mostly still where it should be. The only piece that had collapsed was the burnt lintel – the one carrying the inscription that had brought them here in the first place. He wanted to believe it was some kind of coincidence, but Ed knew his life too well to believe that for more than a second.

Squaring his shoulders, Ed picked his way towards where the beam lay. The occasional rain of grit still fell from the ceiling, and he looked upwards at the hollow where the lintel had been. So far, the roof was holding strong, but Ed was not about to take that for granted.

He hunkered down, running his fingers over the wood, feeling the length and breadth of it. He was amazed it had not cracked from the impact, but he could just make out that the charring was all surface damage. The faces of the square beam that had been embedded in the wall were still intact and untouched by the fire.

‘Give me a hand with this, Mustang. Let’s get it up to the light where we can see it.’ Ed grunted with the effort of lifting, hearing Roy do the same as he took the other end, bearing its solid weight with difficulty. Ed’s spine twinged and ached as he shifted his hands, the muscles in his left arm bulging with the effort. Together, they stumbled clumsily towards the steps, the wooden lintel like a spar between them as they headed out of the unstable cellar and back towards the surface.

Al and Havoc were waiting for them, both hovering anxiously at the top of the steps, and they quickly leant their strength to the effort. Instantly, the dead weight that made Ed’s arms shake eased a little, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he shifted his grip and looked back over his shoulder.

‘This thing weighs a ton,’ Havoc grunted, speaking around the unlit cigarette clenched between his teeth. ‘Where are we going with it?’

‘Beyond where the walls of the house would have been,’ Ed replied. ‘Cellar could still collapse and take us with it. Best get out of the way before we find out why the hell this thing’s so important.’

Al was looking down at the side nearest him, his brow pinched into a frown as his cheeks flushed with the effort. ‘There are markings on it,’ he pointed out, jerking his head downwards in emphasis. ‘This side’s not burnt, and there are carvings all along the length. Not words, but something else.’ He looked at the grassy land around them before coming to a halt. ‘We should be safe here; I think we can put it down.’

Gradually, they eased it to the ground, and Ed noticed he was not the only one who winced as they straightened up. The beam was hardwood, solid and strong. It was no wonder it had survived when so much of the house had been destroyed. He had always assumed that his dad had used alchemy to build their home, and now he knew there was no other way that beam could have been placed, not without help. He and Roy had really struggled to lift it, and even with four of them it was slow going.

Crouching down next to his brother, Ed saw the markings Al had mentioned. He had expected words or arrays, one or the other, but this was different. Curved lines snaked across the wood’s surface, and crude crosses and stars were hacked into the grain. It looked insignificant: a pointless doodle with no real meaning, but Ed refused to believe that. Why would his father have gone to so much trouble to hide it unless there was something he was trying to tell them?

‘Maybe there’s something on the other sides?’ Roy suggested, bending down and helping them roll the heavy piece of wood across the grass, crushing wildflowers and releasing soft scents into the air. Yet the other faces were bare and unadorned, telling them nothing. Now, in the sunlight, Ed could just about make out the words on the burnt face, carved in deep, but other than that there was nothing to help them.

With a curse of irritation, he rolled the beam back so that the picture was exposed to the sun again, glaring at it as he tried to wrap his weary mind around what was depicted there. He had dragged himself back here, to his home and his past, desperate for answers. Instead he was being presented with another puzzle, and his brain was too fogged with bad dreams and frustration to bend itself to the task.

The sound of Havoc striking a match made him look up, and he watched the lieutenant touch the flame to the tip of the cigarette before inhaling. He shielded his eyes and looked up at the sun for a moment before scanning the horizon. ‘Hate to say it, Boss, but if we want to be back in the city by dark then we need to get moving soon. It’s not like it’s a short train ride, and I don’t think we can take that with us.’

Ed scrubbed a hand along his jaw, glancing over at Al in the hopes of seeing some understanding in his brother’s face. His only answer was a shrug, and he sighed before rolling his shoulders, trying to think clearly. ‘Al, check that there’s nothing else on the beam. Make sure, because we’re not going to be able to come back. Havoc, is there paper and a pencil in that bag?’

Roy nudged Ed with his elbow, and Ed looked around to see him holding up a small pencil, perfectly sharpened. With a grunt of thanks, he took it, watching Al examine the wood from every possible angle, including the ends that had been set hard and fast into the wall. Havoc was rummaging around in the bag, setting out sandwiches and a couple of bottles of water before he pulled out a folded sheet of what looked like paper. ‘All I’ve got is a map.’

‘That’s all right, I’ll draw on the back.’ Ed took it from Havoc’s grip, unfolding it as he continued to stare at the carving, hoping for a flash of inspiration. Yet his brain was silent and still, thick with lack of sleep and burdened by too many memories, and he stared blankly at the military chart in his hands.

Abruptly, Roy’s fingers closed over the back of Ed’s gloves, holding him steady. He had one arm on either side of Ed’s body, and long fingers rested on top of Ed’s gripping fists as Roy leaned in to look over his shoulder.

Ed jerked in surprise as his heart skipped erratically and heat swarmed across his skin. Blinking repeatedly, he tried to see what had made Roy reach out.

‘It’s a map,’ Roy breathed in surprise. ‘The carving’s a map. Look at the river.’

Obligingly, Ed found the strong blue line that twisted through the Eastern region, turning slow and serpentine as it passed through East City. Looking down at the picture on the beam, he could see the main line followed exactly the same path. Various curves around it corresponded to a series of hills scattered across the terrain, and Ed gave Roy a grudging look of admiration.

‘Would’ve taken fuckin’ ages for me to work that out,’ he said quietly, feeling the discomfort of that truth prickling like barbs at his skin. ‘Thanks, Roy.’

He half-expected some kind of mocking comment, but if anything Roy looked pleased at the show of gratitude, nodding his head in acknowledgement before letting go of Ed’s hands and getting to his feet. ‘If you draw it on top of the map then, as soon as you’re done, we can head back to the city. I think we’ve spent quite long enough out here.’

Obediently, Ed rested the map on a bare bit of wood, quickly sketching in the marks and watching as the ungainly crosses scored their marks through towns across the land. It was crude and lacking accuracy, but in a world void of answers, the map was like an epiphany, and Ed huffed out a breath of surprise as he sketched the star-like emblem over the western portion of East City.

‘That’s where Dad wants us to go,’ Al said quietly, tracing a finger over the clear, bold lines of the map. ‘Somewhere, there’s something we need to see.’

‘But what?’ Ed tucked the pencil absently behind his ear, ignoring Mustang and Havoc’s quiet conversation as he pored over the chart. ‘We spent enough time in that city to know it like home. All that’s in that area are shops and offices — a couple of municipal buildings, maybe…’

‘The fountain, the park…’ Al grinned, placing a hand on Ed’s shoulder and pushing himself to his feet. ‘When you know something well, Brother, you don’t really see it anymore. Maybe if we really look this time, we’ll find what we need.’

Ed nodded, folding the map into a rough square before shoving it in his pocket. 'It's not like we've got a choice,' he pointed out, waving his hand at the beam. 'We need to know what Dad's trying to tell us with all this. He must have known something about the Saffron Soul, or why would he go to all this effort? Why leave this here for us to find?'

With a shake of his head, Ed checked the beam over one last time, knowing that no one could answer his questions. It felt like he had spent most of his life following one trail of clues after another, and after all this time he should be used to the uncertainty, but it still grated on his nerves that success was more about luck than intelligence — down to chance rather than skill.

'We can't leave this here for someone else to find!' Ed called out, pressing his palms together as the other three turned to look at him. 'If it was important enough for Dad to hide in the house, then we can't just abandon it.’

'You're going to destroy it?' Havoc asked, eyebrows lifting almost to his hairline. 'What if there's something else there that we need? What if you missed something?'

'There isn't.' Ed's confidence was rock solid, and he felt the twitch of the bond as his alchemy flared to life around his hands, hoary and destructive. 'Whatever Dad wanted to explain was too important to write directly on here. This is just a signpost, and I don't want anyone else knowing the way.' Without hesitation, he touched his palms to the wood, feeling the broad, solid plane disintegrate into motes that blew in the wind, catching the sunlight to glisten like stars.

The rushing whisper of its passing filled his ears, and he watched the carvings vanish, obliterated by the cleansing tide of the alchemy at his fingertips. All that remained to show its existence was crushed grass, wildflowers, and one piece of bright metal as long as Ed's finger, gleaming in the daylight.

Wordlessly, he scooped it up, staring in disbelief at the intricate, heavy key that sat in his palm. The brass was bland and unadorned, but the key’s teeth were more jagged and complex than anything Ed had seen before, and they seemed to do strange things to the air, making it waver in a heat haze.

'Was that inside the beam?' Havoc asked, his voice slow as if he was worried he was asking a stupid question.

'It's easy enough to do with alchemy.' Roy grasped Ed's wrist gently, tipping his hand so he could get a better look. 'If done right, no one would know it was there until the wood was destroyed, but Hohenheim was taking a big chance by assuming you'd find it. For all he knew, you could have left the beam in one piece and gone on to the city.'

Ed said nothing, clenching his jaw tight and sharing a quick, sidelong glance with Al. Their father had never been a man to take chances, but Mustang was right. Even with all his power, Hohenheim had no idea what the future held. He could not have known what they would do, and that made his actions seem all the more desperate. All of this, from the engraving to the key, spoke of more hope than belief: a last ditch attempt to protect something before he moved on from the world.

'Whatever's going on, I don't think it's safe to hang around here and figure it out,' Havoc said, hauling the bag up to his shoulder and checking the compass on his belt before setting off. 'Once we get back to the headquarters in East City, you can baffle over it all you want, but now we need to head off.'

It was as close to an order as the lieutenant would give, and Ed had no argument to offer. They had spent hours out here, exposed in the middle of the countryside, and the longer they lingered the greater their chances were of being discovered. He wanted to believe that Danner did not have the intelligence or the disciples to spare to have them followed, but he was not about to stake his life on that bet.

Silently, they left the ruined house behind, and Ed knew that neither he nor Al would look back. There was too much to regret, and besides, they had always promised each other they would not return here to live in the past. Instead they walked side-by-side, not saying a word as the wind continued to murmur around them, supplicating the grass and chasing the white clouds across the sky.

The walk back to the station seemed shorter now that they knew the way, but it was still slow going. The mud of ploughed fields sucked at their boots, and the endless, random lines of hedges and fences slowed them down. By the time they reached the paved road that approached the station, they looked as if they had been out in the wilds for a week or more. Several leaves clung to Havoc’s hair. Al’s trousers were filthy almost to the knees, and Ed’s boots squelched from misjudging the depth of a lingering puddle.

A few people gave them funny looks as they strode across the platform to where the train sat, its funnel puffing steam as the driver stoked the boiler. Carriage doors slammed shut, and the guard’s whistle blew just as Ed sat down on the hard, uncomfortable seat with a groan. He had spent more time on trains over the past few years than he cared to consider, but that did not make long journeys like this one any easier.

‘Guess your inspection is going to have to wait until tomorrow,’ he muttered, nudging Roy with his boot and smirking as he noticed a streak of mud on Mustang’s right cheek.

‘One of the best things about being the inspecting officer is that you decide when to start,’ Roy replied primly, frowning at Ed’s expression. ‘What?’

Rather than reply, Ed leaned forward, cuffing at the mark on Mustang’s face and showing him the dirt that came off on his glove. ‘Thought you were walking over the field, not rolling in it.’

Roy scowled, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping at the streak of mud. ‘You’re one to talk, Fullmetal. You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’

Ed shrugged, a faint grin tilting his lips. He knew his ponytail was a tangle down his back by now, knotted up by the wind, and half of it was escaping from its band to tickle his neck anyway. He was used to looking like he had to actually work for his pay, but Mustang spent most of his life completely immaculate. Now…

Swallowing tightly, Ed turned to look out of the window. Truth was, Mustang looked good most of the time, but right now, with his jacket on the seat beside him, his shirt untucked, collar undone and sleeves rolled up, he was almost impossible to ignore. Like a skipping record, Ed’s mind kept jumping back, dodging around the nightmares of the previous night to return to the fantasy they had shared.

All this mess with the priest was an ongoing mystery, but it was not the only one coiling like fog in Ed’s head. With every passing day he found himself increasingly fascinated with Roy, not just his appearance, but the things he said and the choices he made. Before the bond had trapped them both, Ed had seen Roy as an attractive pain in the arse: a smug smile in a uniform. There had been flashes of more, but they were like fish darting in the shallows, a glimmer that was gone as soon as he tried to focus on it.

Now it was as if he were being allowed the opportunity to realise Mustang’s depths, to look beneath the shallow veneer and see the man Roy tried to hide from the rest of the world. The bond had opened that door for him, but he was beginning to think that everything else — from the flutter of his heart when Roy caught his gaze to the heat that glowed in the pit of his stomach — was all his own.

That knowledge had not made the sex dream any easier to bear. He knew that morning, when he woke up, that he would have to face Roy eventually, but he had never expected it to be so soon or for the encounter to go quite the way it had. Roy had not pushed, questioned or challenged Ed about any of it, not really.

He had only mentioned the dream once more in passing, and even then he had let it slide, yet the bond gave away his tension and uncertainty. Mustang was not about to leave what they had shared in peace for long, and Ed found himself almost glad of that. Lacking courage had never been a problem before now; whatever he was facing, he had the guts to see it through, but this…?

He had never felt like he had so much to lose.

Rubbing a gloved hand across his forehead, Ed sighed. It was easier to try and resolve the riddle surrounding Danner’s work than it was to try and comprehend Mustang’s motives. At least the map and key were solid facts, rather than nebulous emotions.

Dragging his mind away from the tantalising puzzle of Mustang’s motives, Ed reached into his pocket; he checked the carriage to make sure no one could see over his shoulder before pulling out the map. He left the key where it was, tucked safely alongside his watch. The chart had probably surrendered its secrets and served its purpose, but the key was an unknown, and one that Ed was not going to risk falling into the wrong hands

He crossed his legs under himself, supporting the map on his knees as he bent over it, inspecting his own transcription carefully as the fugue of concentration settled around him. Beyond the window, the scenery sped past: fields and cows, farmsteads and towns. Havoc and Al chatted quietly, and occasionally Roy would interject, his voice smooth and low. They ate the food they had brought with them, crumbs catching in the creases of the map as Ed devoured the makeshift meal without pause.

It was only when the clatter-clunk of the wheels on the tracks began to slow and the urban sprawl of East City glowed in the twilight that he looked up, his eyes bleary and his head pounding. Ed had been trying to narrow down exactly where his dad was leading them with the chart, searching his memory of the city for any clues while he sketched careful lines connecting the landmarks his father had highlighted, but he was still at a loss.

‘How is it this late already?’ he asked, blinking at the gathering darkness. A fat moon hung in the sky while the first few stars began to pick out their constellations.

‘We were stuck in some middle-of-nowhere station for almost an hour, Boss.’ Havoc grinned, stretching his arms over his head and automatically reaching for a cigarette. ‘Didn’t you notice?’

‘I was busy.’ Ed straightened his legs, wincing at the cramp in his muscles as he folded the map and shoved it back in his pocket. Now that his concentration had faded, Ed’s eyes felt as heavy as his head. His thoughts fell to a sluggish pace, and he tried to smother the yawn that stretched his mouth. Both he and Mustang had suffered a bad night’s sleep, and now they were paying for it. Perhaps Roy could have dozed on the train, but since Ed had been studying their finds, the bond would have kept him from true sleep. Now the exhaustion was multiplying, manifesting in slumped shoulders and weary movements as the train finally pulled into East City station.

‘Did you find anything more on the map?’ Roy asked as they jumped down from the carriage, leaving the train puffing and clanking as they picked their way across the busy platform towards the exit.

Ed shook his head, looking to check that Al and Havoc were following them before eyeing the crowd. ‘Not really. I thought Dad might try and encode something in it, but I guess not.’

The weight of someone’s eyes upon him made his skin prickle with awareness, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose in warning. Sweat pricked his forehead as people pressed their way forward, eager to catch the last train or get out into the city, and a growl rumbled in Ed’s throat.

A glimpse of grey fluttered across the corner of his vision, but when he snapped his head around to look, fists tight and teeth clenched in a silent snarl, he only saw an old lady in a drab raincoat. There was no one threatening there — no obvious observer or ominous presence — but the tense, cornered feeling did not fade.

‘Too many people here,’ he mumbled at last. ‘Felt safer in the fuckin’ field.’

Roy hummed in agreement, his lips pressed into a tense, thin line as the evening rush washed around them. ‘Come on, it’s not far to the perimeter.’ He reached out, the fingers of his right hand wrapping around Ed’s left wrist. Immediately, twin jolts of heat rushed up Ed’s arm, fierce enough to make the next breath stutter in his throat. One was just the bond reacting happily to their proximity, but the second was darker and more torrid, bringing a blush to Ed’s cheeks as he blindly followed Roy’s lead.

Al and Havoc were right behind them, staying close as they picked their way out towards the street. Cars idled at the kerb and taxis sat waiting for their fares. Roy ignored them all, striding confidently along the pavement. To anyone who did not know him, he looked like a soldier comfortable in his environment, but even if it were not for the tight grip he had on Ed’s wrist, Ed would have known he was uncertain. A tiny frown line hovered on his brow, and his gaze was taking in everyone around them for a possible threat.

‘Danner might not even know we’re here,’ Ed pointed out in a mutter, finally tugging himself free from Roy’s grasp as the spotlights of the military perimeter came into view. ‘He should be too busy hiding himself from the police to chase us around.’

‘That’s not a chance we can take.’ Roy looked both ways before leading the way across the street. The crowds had thinned, and only the shadowy alleyways and the occasional passing soldier made their small group uneasy. Havoc was chewing on his cigarette again, his hand resting casually over the gun on his hip, and Al wasted no time in matching Ed’s stride, sticking close as they approached the sentries.

They were waved through with professional salutes, but even being within the military compound was not enough to ease the tension from Ed’s muscles. It gnawed at him, and by the time they were within the enclosed, brightly lit corridors of the command building, he felt as if he had been wound to breaking point.

‘We should be safe here,’ Roy said quietly, making sure his words did not carry beyond the four of them. ‘However, that doesn’t mean we should let our guards down. Get some food if you need it, and lock your doors when you go to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.’

Ed’s stony stomach remained silent, and the thought of food left an oily, nauseous taste in his mouth. Tiredness and adrenaline warred against each other, battling for supremacy. He felt too threatened to sleep soundly, edgy and nervous, but after the previous night the need to simply shut down was almost overwhelming.

‘Too tired for food,’ he managed at last. ‘I’m just going straight to bed. I can eat tomorrow.’

He caught Roy’s eye, almost, but not quite, asking permission. For all he knew Roy was more hungry than tired and wanted food, rather than his bed, but it only took one glance for Ed to realise that Roy felt just as weary as he did. Their separate beds were calling to them both, and only the lingering trepidation of the nightmares that might haunt them made Ed hesitate.

‘Come on, Brother,’ Al whispered. ‘I’ll make sure you get back to your room safe, and I’m sure the lieutenant will keep an eye on the general. I can get some food later.’

Part of him wanted to protest. Ed hated it when Al let himself go hungry because he thought Ed needed his help, but there was no strength left in him to go through the same old argument. Instead, he turned away, hesitating for just a moment as he spoke quietly over his shoulder. ‘Try the dream thing, Mustang. I don’t need a repeat of last night, and neither do you.’

He did not see Roy nod his head in agreement, but the words drifted to Ed’s ears: a tired promise. ‘I’ll try, Ed. Sleep well.’

The bond itched as they went their separate ways, and Ed scratched irritably at the bandage on his wrist as he caught up with Al. His little brother’s lips were twitching, as if he were trying not to smile, and it burst onto his lips in full bloom when Ed demanded, ‘What?’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in lucid dreaming?’

‘I don’t,’ Ed retorted, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning the corner towards the room they had been given. ‘I’m just…’ He wished he could articulate everything that was swarming up on him like ants on a corpse: fear, confusion and desperation. He thought that, when he had found the Stone and retrieved Al’s body, life would be more simple.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

‘I’m just tired,’ Ed finished lamely. ‘Can’t work out what Danner’s doing when I’m awake, let alone like this.’ He scuffed his boots along the linoleum floor, his feet too heavy to lift in proper steps any more, and the sight of their door was enough to shoot a shiver of relief across his skin.

There was no one about in the corridor at this hour. Most soldiers had already gone home, and those that stayed at Eastern Headquarters had probably gone out for an evening of relaxation. Distance noises, like the cleaners mopping the floor and the incessant clatter of cooks in the nearby kitchen made the building sound mundane and friendly, and Ed propped himself against the wall as Al slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. Instantly, Al switched on the lights, and Ed could tell from the stubborn set of his little brother’s jaw that he was checking the room for intruders.

At least he was not the only one being paranoid.

‘It’s empty,’ Al said after a moment, stepping across the threshold and tossing his coat over one of the spindly little chairs. ‘Go to bed, Brother. Everything can wait until morning. I’ll lock you in and be back in about ten minutes, okay?’ Al’s stomach growled loudly as if to emphasise his words, and Ed allowed himself a faint smile in response.

‘Okay, Al. Thanks.’

Turning towards the bed he had claimed for himself the previous, restless night, Ed stared blearily at the tangled nest of blankets. He was too tired to sort them out now and, as the door closed and the lock clicked home behind him, he perched on the edge of the thin mattress. Even the simple task of removing his boots and pants had become something complex. Clumsy fingers dragged at laces and shoved leather down his hips, and by the time he was dressed only in his vest and boxers, his arms felt like lead.

Ed knew he should brush his teeth and sort out his hair, but the ability to care was far beyond him. Almost on its own, his body sank back into the mattress, dragging the tangle of sheets and blankets up to his shoulders. The light was still on, but the switch was over by the door, and Ed turned his face into the pillow, blocking out the bulb’s glow as his eyes drifted shut.

Think of somewhere safe.

He did not notice falling asleep, did not even realise he had shut his eyes until the blank darkness of slumber began to take on shape and form. Ed cringed, expecting sharp, leaping shadows and the vicious bite of a nightmare, but none came. Instead a soft, sweet-scented breeze drifted over his face, gentle fingertips of air urging him closer to the light.

The abrupt sensation of ground beneath his feet, solid and sure, jarred up his leg. It was as if someone had flung open the curtains of his mind, dragging aside the veils of sleep and transporting him to a new world

Ed had never seen this place before, of that he was certain. Somewhere like this would be impossible to forget. His feet were planted squarely on the crest of a hill, looking down towards a distant, halcyon sea. Impossibly blue waters stretched out, serene and gentle, with tiny waves lapping at a beach of crystal white sand.

Yet the land where he stood was covered in golden barley, undulating softly in the wind that blew down towards the ocean. He recognised the scent and colour of the grain, rich in their own way, and he idly reached down to pluck at one of the stems, setting the chaff free to fly in the breeze.

A deep blue midsummer sky stretched cloudless overhead, and Ed tipped his face up towards the sun, feeling its heat reach down into his veins and soothe out the last lingering cobwebs of tension that clogged his mind. Tight muscles unwound, and he took a deep breath of the warm air, listening to the insects chirp and the sigh of the far off sea.

‘Where are we?’

Roy’s question should have made Ed jump, but it was said so softly, like a brush of silk, that Ed barely heard it. Only Roy’s warmth at his shoulder made him turn and meet that dark blue gaze.

‘Thought it must be your place,’ he replied lazily, closing his eyes and stretching his arms above his head. ‘Never been here before.’

Letting his hands fall back to his side, Ed sank down to the ground, sitting comfortably among the barley and looking out towards the sea. The short plants only came up to his shoulders, tickling the bare skin of his left arm and catching against the cotton of his vest. The black leather pants, so familiar they turned up even in his dreams, shone like wet ink in the sunlight, echoed by the gleam of the automail.

‘It’s not familiar,’ Roy replied, but there was no wariness in his voice, only acceptance. ‘I don’t think there’s anywhere like this in Amestris.’

Ed shifted over a little as Roy sat down beside him, slender fingers reaching out to cup an ear of barley before he released it to resume its joyous dance with the wind. A tiny green butterfly darted up from where it had been resting, a mere flash of emerald in the sky before it flitted away, and Ed sighed happily as a casual lethargy began to take hold.

‘It’s safe. That’s what matters, isn’t it? After all, it’s keeping them away.’ He raised a finger, pointing at the far-off shadow of clouds on the horizon. It looked like the blackest kind of storm, the clouds twisting into strange, half-recognised shapes, but they did not seem to be moving closer, and their turmoil did not touch this place.

‘Nightmares,’ Roy murmured, putting his hands behind him and leaning back, tipping his face up to the sun as Ed had done only a moment before. It cast bright highlights in his hair and seemed to caress his skin, adding a touch of honey to his complexion. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up the elbow. More than once the wind caught at the fabric, making it dip like the wings of a bird, and Ed watched the movement with idle fascination.

‘They won’t bother us,’ he said at last, leaning back until he was lying on the ground. The barley wavered around him, framing the cobalt sky in gleaming amber, and Ed breathed in the perfume of the stalks crushed beneath him. He remembered days like this in Risembool. No ocean, maybe, and nothing but cows in the fields, but summer days so perfect it was impossible to imagine what winter could be like. He remembered worshipping those days as a child, pretending the hours would never pass him by — this was just the same.

‘Even if they do, we’ll see them coming.’ Roy drew his knees up to his chest, locking his arms loosely around them as he stared down towards the sea. His profile was thoughtful, but it was not the intense, troubled consideration that marred him throughout the day. This was softer — an almost childish curiosity — and Ed propped himself up on one elbow to follow his gaze.

‘I said I didn’t know this place,’ Roy said quietly, ‘and I don’t, not really, but the shape of it — the hill and the low approach — it’s an easily defensible point. We can see anything coming for us long before it arrives.’ He ran a languid hand through his hair before looking back at Ed with a real smile: open, honest, and lighting his eyes with its happiness. ‘But we don’t have to worry about that, do we? It feels like nothing could possibly hurt us here.’

Ed lay back down again, humming in agreement as he closed his eyes again. He knew precisely what Roy meant. There was nothing overt here to protect them, no walls or weapons to shield them from whatever lay out there on the horizon, but even so it felt as if the shadows could never penetrate the tranquil haven that they had found.

The barley whispered as Roy lay down at Ed’s side, murmuring with appreciation. No field in the world should be this comfortable. In reality the stalks should scratch and cut into their skin, and the earth should be baked dry and unforgiving by the sun. Yet, here, there was only warmth and the hush of the breeze. Waves sang gently over the distant sand below, their sound hypnotic, and Ed found himself curling unconsciously closer to Roy’s presence, drawn in by the scent of spices and the living, breathing warmth of him.

A weight settled at his waist, and he did not even need to open his eyes to know that it was Roy’s arm gently holding him close, cradling him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. It should have felt strange — too close, too intimate — but instead it felt as if that was where he belonged.

For the first time in his life, in this place and in Roy’s arms, he felt at peace.


	18. Chapter 18

Roy lay on his back, blinking up at the ceiling of his bland military accommodations. The sun had risen beyond the windowpane, covering the world in its light, but he barely spared the dawn a second glance. His mind was too occupied with the glowing memory of the dream world.

Normally, even his nightmares faded upon waking, becoming mere suggestions of shadows and pain, but there was no such fog descending upon him now. It was almost as if he had never been asleep at all. Even the recollections of his waking hours were not as rich in detail as the scene that still lingered in the forefront of his mind.

The scent of sweet barley and the distant sea lingered in his nose, and nerves shimmered with the remembered presence of Ed at his side. He could almost still hear the hush of the waves and chirrup of insects beckoning him back. Roy closed his eyes again, knowing even as he did so that it was a hopeless effort. Ed would be awake too, unable to guide Roy back to aureate fields and a cerulean sky.

With a sigh, Roy parted his lashes again, pushing himself away from the thin, unforgiving mattress and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Lucid dreaming had been a last ditch attempt to save themselves from the pit of their nightmares. Roy had not honestly expected it to work, but the evidence was overwhelming. He felt safe, centred and perfectly rested. Nothing dark had impinged itself upon his night’s slumber and nothing had roused him from the depths of sleep until a lazy blink in that tranquil world had reopened his eyes to reality.

That abrupt transition should have been disturbing, but a deep instinct told him that was simply the way it was supposed to be. He had lingered in that safe haven until the moment of waking, protecting himself from the sharks of bad dreams that lingered in the shallows of slumber. Finally, he had been delivered here. While he knew he had been asleep, resting blissfully behind closed doors, it was a struggle to believe that he had not really been in that place: body, mind and soul.

It seemed so real.

More than the sounds and scents of the place, it was Ed who filled his mind, giving definition to mere scenery with his presence. It had taken the pair of them only moments to realise that they could not sleep within a dream. There was always a lingering awareness: peaceful, but present all the same. Yet there had been no urgency there, no compelling need to do anything but exist, side-by-side and lost in contentment.

Roy could still remember everything that he and Ed had talked about, the conversation and quiet, peaceful silences that told their own story. Everything was simple. During his waking hours, Roy guarded his words and handed them out with care. There had been no such caution last night, and Ed’s rare smiles, flashing like the sun from behind the clouds, were all the reward he needed.

His stomach dipped and twisted uncomfortably, torn between strange, fluttering excitement and heavy dread. Would Ed be different now? Would any of that soft openness remain, or would reality bring its baggage of discomfort along with it, leaving him and Ed locked in the same uncertainty as always? Last night it had been blissfully easy to talk, but the conversation had been neutral: nothing too close or too dangerous. There had never been any impetus to bring up the erotic dream they had shared back in Central, and now Roy found himself wondering what would have happened.

Would it be the same as before — avoidance and silence — or would that safe haven have shorn Ed of his embarrassment and doubt?

Shaking his head, Roy bit his lip, promising himself that he would try and think of that tonight before he fell asleep. Consciousness did not seem to work in quite the same way during a lucid dream. During waking hours, his mind was a complex jumble of thought and instinct, but in that field of barley Roy had felt rinsed clean of superfluous mental clutter.

It had been about what felt right, nothing more.

The blare of a trumpet calling the men to drill cut across the quiet room, and Roy glanced at the clock. Since the bond had tangled him and Ed together, he had found himself waking with the dawn. Now, though, it was almost eight in the morning. Unless he hurried, he would be forced to find a dignified excuse about being late for his own inspection.

He moved through his morning routine on autopilot, and within a matter of minutes he was clean and shaven, dry and clothing himself once more in his uniform. It was only when he reached for a clean bandage to cover the array on his wrist that he hesitated, staring down at the clean lines on his skin. It had always looked more like a tattoo or brand than a true wound, but now the skin around it seemed to emanate with a dewy white glow. It was faint, like a pool around the strong line of the bond that cleaved through walls and rooms to the twin on Ed’s wrist, yet Roy was certain it had not been there yesterday.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that alchemy was a dynamic, ever-changing science, and that transmutations did not always work like a light-switch. They could evolve even after activation, growing and changing along with the situation. They had known from the start that the bond adapted, gaining strength and stability, but that did not mean Roy was comfortable with its shifting state.

A knock on his door halted his concern, and he snagged a fresh bandage, rapidly hiding the mark from sight before slipping on his gloves. A quick glance in the mirror was enough to reassure Roy of his appearance, and he pressed his eye to the peephole. Immediately, his stomach swooped and knotted, inexplicably nervous as he saw Ed waiting out in the corridor with two mugs in his hand.

He should have known it was Ed outside the door. The bond was telling him loud and clear how close Ed was. The irritating interference had faded to nothing, leaving a sensation of placid strength in its place. Yet Roy had been too lost in his thoughts to notice the change, and he struggled to school his expression into something neutral as he opened the door.

Immediately, the scent of coffee assailed his nose, and he held out his hands as Ed surrendered one of the cups wordlessly. He seemed to realise that Roy needed at least one hit of caffeine before he was capable of a decent conversation, and Roy took a quick, hot gulp, feeling it warm him all the way down to his toes.

‘Thank you,’ he said, gratitude saturating his voice as he took in Ed’s appearance. The shadows from the previous night’s exhaustion were long gone, leaving Ed looking burnished and bright. All of that sharp intelligence, scattered by weariness the previous day, had regained its focus. Roy could see with just one glance that Ed was already desperate to start solving the mysteries his father had left in the ruins of their old home.

‘It’s all you’re getting,’ Ed replied with a shrug. ‘Havoc says you’ve got no time for breakfast. You’re meant to be on the parade ground in ten minutes.’

‘I can manage without,’ Roy murmured, trying to ignore the way his skin prickled, keenly aware of Ed’s heat and proximity. ‘Don’t seem that hungry anyway, for once.’

Ed snorted. ‘That’s because I ate enough for both of us.’ He took a gulp of coffee, shifting aside as Roy stepped out into the corridor. ‘Should keep you going until lunchtime, but after that you’re on your own.’

The unexpected thoughtfulness was enough to make Roy hesitate. It was not that Ed was selfish, but he tended to react spontaneously to immediate events. After all, planning ahead was not exactly one of Ed’s strengths. Yet this time it seemed he had put in the effort, and Roy found himself embarrassingly pleased that Ed had considered his comfort.

‘I’ll make sure I eat an early lunch,’ Roy promised, clumsily locking up his suite door as he set off down the corridor. ‘With any luck this inspection won’t take too long. It’s more symbolic than a genuine audit anyway.’

Ed fell in at his side, his faint body heat warming Roy’s skin like winter sunlight. For a moment it was almost as calm as within the dream world, secluded and full of promise, but Ed’s next words cut through the lingering veils of tranquillity, dumping them both back in the familiar, antagonistic relationship of superior and subordinate.

‘Doesn’t matter how long you take. Al and me are going to go to the Western Quarter while you’re playing soldiers. We’ll see if we can work out what the alchemical disturbance is, then at least that’s out of the way.’ He sipped his coffee, his shoulders relaxed and his left hand in his pocket as he walked, but Roy could see through that placid exterior to the tension beneath.

He stared at Ed in disbelief, shaking his head as he paused by the steps to the parade ground, grabbing Ed’s shoulder and pulling him to a halt. ‘No you’re not. You’re staying here until the inspection is over. Wherever we go, we go together.’

‘Mustang —’

He cut off Ed’s protest with a slice of his hand, almost spilling coffee on his gloves. ‘No, Ed. Did you think I hadn’t noticed that the map on the beam points to the Western Quarter of the city — the same region as the alchemical disturbances mentioned in the assignment? Even if they are unrelated, I’m not letting you and Al out of the compound on your own.’

‘Then give me Havoc,’ Ed retorted. If it were not for the mug in his hand, he would probably have folded his arms, but all he could do was glare at Roy with the intensity of a blowtorch. ‘I don’t want to sit around here all day doing nothing, Mustang!’ He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, his voice a growl in his throat. ‘For all we know we’re this close to the answers we need, and you expect me to _wait_?’

‘I expect you to follow orders.’

The words weighed on the air like heavy stones, and Roy wondered how it could be so easy to communicate with Ed when they were both asleep, but so difficult in the real world. He knew Ed was asking himself the same thing — could see the frustration and stubbornness darkening those distinctive features — and Roy ran his hands through his hair as he struggled not to fall back on old habits.

‘I know you want to start looking, but I don’t want to compromise on safety. Two people on their own are a far easier target than four, and neither of us are safe by ourselves anywhere.’ He clenched his teeth, trying to control the fierce, protective urge to keep Ed in his sights, at his side and safe. ‘If you and Al want to go off in the compound to study the map or the key, then fine. But I’m asking you not to cross the perimeter until we can all go together.’

Ed’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to read Roy’s intentions off the inside of his skull, but for once there was no hidden motive. Roy knew that Ed worked well alone, but he also knew his methods. If Ed went to check out the unusual activity in the Western Quarter and found anything relating to _The Saffron Soul_ , he would not wait for backup before going to investigate. And if he found trouble…

Roy sighed inwardly. There was no “if” about it. Ed always found trouble. Normally he had the strength to fight it, but now there was too much at stake.

‘Fine,’ Ed grouched at last. ‘Just hurry. I hate this boring military shit.’ His boots scuffed along the floor as he followed Roy outside to the parade ground. The cloud of sullen temper Roy had expected was thinner than usual, a mere hint in the air rather than an oppressive blanket of annoyance at his side.

Briefly, Roy wondered if his victory had been too easy. Ed had never had a problem with saying one thing and doing another in the past, but there was no sign of cunning or deceit in his expression. Gold brows were pinched in to a frown, and he held out a hand in silent demand for Roy’s half-empty mug as he jerked his head towards the waiting troops. ‘Are you going or not?’

Roy relinquished what was left of his coffee, nodding his head to Havoc and Al in brief greeting. ‘I won’t be long. Havoc, you stay with me. Let’s get this over with.’

With great difficulty, Roy forced thoughts of Ed from his mind. Trust was not something he gave easily, but in this case he had no choice. He would have to believe that Ed would do as he asked and hope that, should Ed decide to try his luck outside the periphery, the bond would give Roy some warning.

He and Havoc marched towards the waiting soldiers, and Roy listened intently to the lieutenant’s briefing. With every sentence that passed Havoc’s lips, Roy grew more certain that this inspection was nothing but an appeasement of Hakuro’s paranoia. The man was imagining plots and jumping at shadows, and Roy knew that was the first step in a long journey towards downfall.

Well, when that day came, he would be waiting, but for now he had to deal with the job in hand.

‘General Fox.’ He saluted smartly, ignoring the fact that as an inspecting officer he technically outranked the much older man. It was a simple enough gesture, one that Roy knew would ease the nervous defensiveness of the commanding officers in East City. No one appreciated a short-notice inspection, and while there was a sense of unease in the air, Roy doubted it had anything to do with covering up a coup.

‘Brigadier-General Mustang.’ Fox saluted in return, milky blue eyes sharp and knowing beneath his bushy white eyebrows. ‘I trust you have been enjoying your stay in your old stomping ground?’

‘It’s good to be back, sir,’ Roy replied, letting the smooth smile touch his eyes. ‘I’m only sorry that I’ve been ordered to conduct such a short-notice inspection. I’m sure we can keep it brief so that you and your men can get back to your duties.’

‘Mmmm, and you back to yours.’ Fox’s lips twitched in a brief, shared smile at appeasing the bureaucracy of the military. They both knew that, sometimes, you had to please the higher ups with trivialities before getting on to more serious work.. If the general had credited the inspection with any real importance, then the whole process could take days, rather than hours.

The drillmasters got to work, putting the troops on base through their paces as Roy and the general watched. It was more than a display of discipline and obedience, one that Roy had not appreciated until he had reached a higher rank. More than anything, the noise and pomp were a smokescreen, allowing the watching officers to talk through the real issues at hand.

‘We have several units out training, of course. No more than the three hundred men limit. I believe Lieutenant Vellard has the details in my office if necessary.’

Roy nodded. Hakuro had limited the number of men allowed out on manoeuvres in peacetime as soon as he had taken office. The idea was to make it difficult for anyone to mobilise a large force against him from across the country. All he had to worry about was the thousands of soldiers based right at his feet.

‘I’ll take a look at the figures, sir. Specifics will help to set the Fuhrer’s mind at rest.’

‘I don’t think anything will bring that man peace these days, Mustang,’ Fox grumbled, his voice almost drowned out by the nearby stamp of feet. ‘Some say he’s losing control.’

Roy lifted one corner of his mouth, briefly acknowledging the old trick of couching opinion as harmless gossip. Fox was not accusing Hakuro, merely passing on a nugget of rumour to another officer. It was the safest course, particularly as Fox could not be sure how close Roy had become to Hakuro.

‘Some say the man never had it in the first place, sir,’ Roy replied. ‘Thankfully the military has been more involved with civilian concerns lately.’

Fox nodded, lifting his voice to call out across the parade ground. ‘That will do, Sergeant. Thank you for such an impressive drill. You and the men have done us proud.’ Falling into a more normal volume, the general gestured towards the building. ‘Allow me to give you a tour, Brigadier-General.’

Going through the motions of an inspection was something that came naturally to Roy. He appeared outwardly relaxed and appeased as he scanned his inner, more critical eye over the daily workings of the command building. There may be nothing of concern to report back to Hakuro, but Roy knew that even a glimpse of information seen today could be useful ammunition for him in his future career.

It was second nature to slip into the analytical frame of mind, and he listened with due attention as General Fox led him down familiar corridors and into offices that he still knew like the back of his hand. He was introduced to various members of staff, shown and given copies of an assortment of documentation, and all the while the morning slipped away, lost in the mire of military procedure.

At last, after what felt like hours, the general marched towards one of the rear doors to the command building. Roy knew that it led out into the quiet grounds near one of the perimeter stations, but the change in light quality as he stepped outside still made him blink.

He glanced up, knowing the sun would already be reaching its zenith. Lunch-time was fast approaching, and there was no sign of Ed.

For a moment fear rose in him, thick and dark like poisoned well water, and it took a couple of heartbeats for the sensations from the bond to intervene. Wherever Ed was, he had not gone far. The itching interference of other souls was at a tolerable level, and if he had crept out into the city it would have become a constant chafe at Roy’s nerves. No, he was nearby. Besides, it was unlikely Alphonse would let him slip away — not when he knew the risks.

Fox cleared his throat, and Roy realised the general’s pace had become slower and more thoughtful. Whatever he had to say was unofficial. Roy felt, rather than saw, Havoc fall back — a watchful presence well out of earshot.

‘I must say, Mustang, you were the last man I expected to see doing inspections,’ Fox murmured, his eyes apologetic even as he carried on. ‘It’s no secret that you want the Fuhrer’s job. I would not have expected him to believe your reports.’

Roy nodded his head once in silent confirmation. The general had a valid point, but it was one that Roy had anticipated. ‘That’s why they’ll be signed off by General Marlow, sir. The Fuhrer is unlikely to read into the details of the inspecting officer in charge.’ He sighed, clasping his hands comfortably behind his back as he added, ‘The Fuhrer wanted it done quickly, and I was able to spare the time from my other duties.’

‘You mean those “civilian concerns” you mentioned earlier?’ Fox chuckled, tapping the side of his nose and giving a cheerful wink. ‘We heard about the serial killer situation. Always distressing, but I was surprised to get word of military involvement.’ He raised a questioning eyebrow, and Roy fought to keep his face impassive as he thought through his next words. General Fox seemed an unlikely candidate for Danner’s preaching, but they had learned the hard way that trust was impossible, and he did not want to give away anything too significant.

‘The case struck a bit too close to home. Some military personnel were involved and, frankly, the police needed the manpower.’ Roy shrugged, a hint of regret seeping into his voice. ‘The alchemical staff in my command made us a natural choice for a cooperative effort, but the situation is increasingly complicated.’

General Fox glanced over his shoulder, lifting his hand in a wave to someone at the perimeter. ‘Perhaps all that is about to change,’ he said with a smile, nodding towards the sentry post. ‘Central’s chief of police has been on one of our secure lines for more than an hour to his deputy, and I have no doubt it’s the cut-throat killer case that they’ll be discussing.’ The general clapped a hand on Roy’s shoulder. ‘Perhaps you’ll be able to get back to your old duties sooner than you thought, Mustang!’

It was instinct that allowed Roy to act the part — a comical slump of relief and a knowing grin — but his gut twisted sharply. Anders was someone he had worked with and knew how to coax into following the best course of action, but the chief of police was unlikely to be as easily guided. For now, Anders was merely suspicious about the truth of what had happened between him and Ed at Danner’s hand, but adding anyone new to the mix was likely to drag everything out into the light. Worse, he was not in Central to try and control the course of events, but stuck out here in the east.

‘I hope so, General,’ he replied with a smile, beckoning to Havoc and quickly rounding up the inspection. ‘I’ll be sure to hand my report in promptly, which should remove Eastern Headquarters from the Fuhrer’s suspicions, at least for a while. We have one additional assignment to handle here in the city, and then we’ll be heading home.’

The general nodded sharply, his shoulders square and straight as he saluted once again. ‘It’s been a pleasure seeing you again, Mustang. Remember, if you ever need assistance, you have help here in the east.’ With a wave of his hand, he turned back towards the command building, no doubt intent on his own duties as Havoc stepped up to Roy’s side.

‘Trouble?’ the lieutenant asked, reaching for a cigarette. The scrape of the match seemed loud in the late-morning peace, and Roy shook his head as Havoc took a drag.

‘Not exactly. Just a change in circumstances I had not foreseen.’ Flicking a piece of fluff idly from his sleeve, Roy turned back towards the building and quickly explained. ‘The chief of Central police is on his way back to the city, and I think it would be best if we were to get there before him.’

Havoc frowned, tapping ash onto the ground as he followed Roy’s slow, steady steps. ‘We’d better hope that whatever the boss has got to deal with doesn’t take long, then. The last train to Central leaves at four.’

‘We’ll get lunch and then head out into the city,’ Roy replied, hovering by the door as Havoc hastily smoked his way through the rest of the cigarette before crushing it underfoot. ‘I doubt we’ll get home tonight, but we need to be on that train first thing in the morning. If the chief starts asking difficult questions, then I need to be there to give him answers.’

‘Or give him what he _thinks_ are answers.’ Havoc shrugged, grinning knowingly as he pulled the door open and motioned Roy through.

‘If he gets back before us, then the situation could quickly fall beyond our control,’ Roy explained in a low voice, keeping his pace slow and unconcerned as Havoc listened. ‘I don’t think he would deliberately set out to stir up trouble, but his enquiries might bring some things to light that would be best kept hidden.’

Silence fell between them, filled with the hush of busy thoughts, and it was a few minutes before Havoc began to speak. ‘I know a few of the guys at the Quartermaster’s.’ He scratched his head, narrowing his eyes for a moment before continuing. ‘They control the supply trains, and if one of those is stuck in the station, then nothing else can get in or out.’

Roy raised an eyebrow, reminded anew of how much he relied on his men thinking on their feet and flexing a situation to his benefit. ‘You think they might have that kind of problem?’ he asked, smothering a smile as Havoc gave an innocent shrug.

‘Give me half an hour,’ he replied with a grin, ‘and I’ll see what I can do. Meet you in the canteen, sir?’

‘I’ll have lunch waiting, Lieutenant.’ Roy put his hands in his pockets, watching Havoc flick an idle salute before ambling off down the corridor. Perhaps clogging up the train line would not stop the chief from getting back to Central tonight, but the railway was the fastest and most direct way back to the city. He was likely to hang around and wait for it to clear rather than take to the roads, and that was extra time that Roy could put to good use.

Now he just had to find Ed and pray that whatever secrets were hidden in the Western Quarter were quick to reveal themselves.

He marched along the corridor towards the canteen, keeping his mind focussed on the bond and feeling the steady buzz of interference begin to fade off. By the time he was at the door to the mess hall, the sensation had changed to a jolt of irritation whenever a single person got in the bond’s way. Roy hid a smile as he saw the Elric brothers sitting at one of the tables, oblivious to the bustle of soldiers around them as they worked.

Ed’s head was propped in his hands, and something in Roy’s chest took flight as he abruptly looked up, meeting Roy’s gaze in an instant. The scowl from earlier had been wiped away, and now Roy noticed Ed’s parted lips and the slightest pink tinge to his cheeks. The expression passed quickly, stifled by the more familiar impatience, but it was enough for Roy to see the brief pleasure at his presence on Ed’s face — to know that, even hours after waking, the connection they had tentatively forged in the dream world lingered.

‘Where’s Havoc?’ Ed asked, shoving a plate laden with food in Roy’s direction as he sat down on the opposite bench. ‘You’re not meant to be on your own.’

Roy hid a smile, hearing the concern beneath the irritation in Ed’s voice. ‘He’s gone to make some arrangements, and he only left me alone a couple of minutes ago. He should be back before long.’ Quickly, he filled Ed and Al in on what General Fox had told him. ‘I need to get back to Central before the chief of police if I want to stay in control of the situation. The lieutenant’s doing his best to increase our chances.’

Stabbing his fork into a soft potato, Roy gestured towards the paperwork fanned out around the two brothers. ‘Have you found anything useful in all that? The quicker we can finish up in the city, the better.’

‘We’ve been trying to work out if there’s any correlation between where Dad’s telling us to go and the assignment you gave Brother,’ Al replied, tapping his pencil on the desk, ‘but we’ve not got enough to go on. They could be related, or completely separate.’

‘The only way we’ll know is by going out into the city and taking a look for ourselves,’ Ed added, taking a sip from the steaming mug in front of him as he watched Roy eat. He was looking without really seeing, and Roy knew the pensive expression on Ed’s face all too well. Just because he did not have the evidence right in front of him did not mean Ed’s diamond-bright mind was not reaching its own conclusion.

‘What does your gut tell you?’ Roy asked, propping his head on his hand while trying to read Ed’s features for a clue to his mood. Normally, it was easy: an open book, but this time there were too many conflicting emotions. His jaw was tense and his eyes were downcast. All the while he was chewing on his lip, his hands clenched tight around the coffee mug.

‘Could be a signal,’ Ed said at last, giving a sharp shrug. ‘Did you notice the date of the first report?’ He held out the page, and Roy’s eyes automatically drifted over the dense, typewritten paragraphs to the date at the top, his eyebrows climbing in surprise.

‘That’s only hours after we were bound together.’ Roy frowned, knowing deep down that it was unlikely to be any kind of coincidence. ‘Interesting.’

‘I’d bet that either Danner binding us set it off, or one of Danner’s disciples was instructed to activate it.’ Ed’s fingers drummed restlessly on the surface of his mug, the chime of automail on ceramic muffled by his gloves. ‘Makes good bait for a trap.’

Roy sighed, looking down at his half-finished dinner as his appetite vanished. It was unusual enough for Ed to be the voice of caution in any situation, but his suspicion was enough to make the hairs on the back of Roy’s neck stand on end. If Danner wanted to lure Ed back into his clutches, then his best chance would be causing incidents that required the investigation of a state alchemist. Then there was every chance he would get Ed alone and vulnerable: ripe for the picking.

‘So you think that if your father’s not responsible, then Danner is?’ He watched Ed nod, silent and thoughtful on the other side of the table.

Eventually, Al spoke up, keeping his voice low as he leant in. ‘As soon as we see what’s causing the trouble, we’ll know if it’s our dad’s work or not. We know his alchemy as well as our own. It’ll be obvious.’

‘Until then, we’re walking blind. We might find nothing but arrays, or we could find a gang of disciples waiting to take us back to Danner.’ Ed dragged Roy’s plate towards him, stabbing a piece of tough meat vindictively before shoving it in his mouth. ‘At least then we’ll know where the bastard is.’

Roy rubbed his fingertips across his forehead, trying to plot a way forward. It was tempting to turn and leave, to get back to Central and leave the mystery unsolved, but he was painfully aware of how important this could be. If Hohenheim had left something for his sons to find — something to help them unravel this whole mess — then they had to try and find it.

‘We’ll be on our guard. At the first sign of a trap, we run.’ He lifted his head, fixing Ed with a particularly meaningful look. ‘That means you too, Fullmetal.’

Ed flipped his middle finger, but his words showed it to be nothing but an instinctive rebellion. ‘Not like I can fight with you and Al to look after anyway. Besides, whatever people have been complaining about might have nothing to do with what Dad wants us to see. Could just be a junk array, or something.’

Roy wished he could believe that they were that lucky, but his stomach continued to churn with anxiety as he folded his arms across his chest. Dimly, he was aware of Ed and Al speaking to one another, but his ears barely registered their words. His mind was too involved in plotting strategy and guessing at odds, and it was only when a shadow fell over him that he looked up to see Havoc standing at his side.

It was clear from the grin on his face that he had succeeded, and he perched on the bench next to Roy. ‘All done,’ he said cheerfully, reaching out to accept the sandwich Al offered him. ‘Trains won’t be back up until late tonight or early tomorrow.’ He took a huge bite of his lunch, obviously aware that they needed to get going.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant. That might make our job a little easier, but we need to be careful.’ Roy outlined their suspicions about what was happening in the Western Quarter. By the time he was finished a grim scowl marked Havoc’s brow.

He licked his fingers free of crumbs before folding his arms. ‘I’d be happier if Hawkeye were here,’ he said at last. ‘Hell, I wish we had half the army watching our backs. Are we sure this is worth the risk?’

Ed and Roy nodded in unison, but it was Roy who spoke in a quiet, certain voice. ‘We have been chasing Danner around in circles ever since this all began. Every day we find more questions and no answers. Hohenheim knew about _The Saffron Soul_ , and there’s a good chance he’s trying to pass on that information to Ed and Alphonse.’ He cuffed a hand across his forehead before pressing his palms to the table and getting to his feet. ‘If it was worth hiding, then it’s worth trying to find.’

Havoc’s normally-amiable countenance was pinched with worry, his lips pressed thin and his cheeks pale, but at last he nodded in understanding. Roy knew his agreement was more about following orders than his better judgement, but it would do. If trouble was waiting for them in the Western Quarter, then Roy would be glad to have Havoc at his side. Even injured back-up was better than none at all.

‘Let’s get moving,’ he ordered quietly, watching the Elrics shovel together their paperwork and stuff it into the battered satchel that Al had slung over his shoulder. ‘Keep your eyes open, and leave at the first sign of danger.’ He rubbed his fingers together, trying to think his way forward through the unknown. ‘If we get separated, meet at the train station. If anyone is captured, come back here for help. General Fox can be trusted — at least as much as anyone else we know.’

‘Anything else?’ Ed asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. ‘Wish I’d never told you it could be a trap.’

‘It’s better to be prepared than taken by surprise, Brother.’ Al adjusted the bag on his shoulder, following Roy out of the canteen and into the corridor. Instantly, they fell in to an easy stride, quick enough to hurry, but relaxed enough to not draw attention. It took only a few minutes to weave their way through the flourishing lunchtime crowd of soldiers and secretaries towards the parade ground outside. Roy trotted down the steps and headed towards the perimeter.

‘Do we even know where to start looking?’ Havoc asked. ‘Other than the Western Quarter, that is?’

‘There’s eight reports of strange alchemical activity over the past week. At least, that’s what the report Mustang gave me says,’ Ed replied, meeting Roy’s eyes in a brief sideways glance. ‘Chances are they’re flares at the edge of an array’s influence. At first glance it looks like something old breaking down — that’s what I thought at first, anyway.’

‘Look.’ Al handed over the much-folded map, and Roy glanced over Havoc’s shoulder as they walked, taking in Ed’s smooth sketches on the creased paper. ‘You can see they form a rough circle. Draw lines from one to the other and you have an epicentre. We’ll probably find the cause somewhere around there.’ Al pointed towards where the lines intersected and Roy quickly scanned the landmarks, drawing on his memory of his time in the city for more information.

The first touch of cautious relief tickled at his tense muscles, and he nodded to the sentries as they crossed the perimeter and turned onto the street. ‘That square is full of restaurants and bars, as well as a common stop for the tourists with the old palace nearby. It’s not exactly the ideal place to lay a trap: too many witnesses.’

‘Or a lot of noise to cover up a struggle. Depends on how you look at it.’ Havoc grimaced before placing a cigarette between his lips and talking around it. ‘Sorry, sir, but just because there’ll probably be a big crowd there isn’t making me any happier. I don’t think I’ll feel better ‘til we’re back in Central.’

Roy hummed in agreement, allowing his instincts to come to the fore. It was in a soldier’s nature to be observant, and he was keenly aware that what should be friendly territory was too full of unknowns to be a sanctuary. He had worked and played in this city not that long ago, and while the streets and buildings were firmly fixed in his memory, it was the people who snagged his suspicions.

Pedestrians filled the pavements, talking in groups or ambling along on their own. Most were dressed in the familiar blue of the army, but there were civilians mixed in too; they wore bright colours, like fish amidst the sea of navy and gold. The air filled with car exhaust and lilted with human conversation, and the closer they got to the Western Quarter, the thicker the crowd became.

Soon enough, fragrances of cooking meats and baking bread tickled Roy’s nose, and he could hear the splash of the fountain in the centre of the square. The old palace, long ago stripped of royalty and handed back to the people, was a squat, domed stretch of marble off to the right, while the streets lost their regular grid pattern and began to twist into the alleyways and hidden little side-streets that spoke of whatever little town East City had once been.

Stopping on the edge of the square, Roy could feel Ed close and tense at his side. Those golden eyes were scanning the busy crowd, painfully alert for any threat. To his left, he could feel Havoc, a half step behind and probably with his hand surreptitiously on his gun. Al brought up the rear of their little group, calm and capable as he took in the scene.

‘So what we’re looking for is here somewhere?’ Havoc asked, stepping back to let a pair of Xingian tourists amble past. ‘Great. How the hell are we meant to find it?’

Ed shifted restlessly, and Roy glanced down at the younger man’s profile. He was like a dog on a leash catching a scent. His weight shifted forward as if he were preparing to dive into the thronging crowd, and Roy cautiously reached out to pinch Ed’s jacket sleeve between his thumb and forefinger in the faintest of restraints. ‘Leave that to Ed and Al. We need to watch all these people. If you see anyone acting even remotely suspicious, let me know.’

‘This way.’ Ed twitched his sleeve free, returning the gesture with a firm jerk of Roy’s jacket that almost ripped the fabric. ‘Look over there and tell me what you see.’ He pointed across the square, and Roy squinted through the shifting forest of bodies and brightly coloured market stalls, trying to see what had caught Ed’s eye.

Abruptly, a snaking line of power dashed across the side wall of one of the buildings lining the square, briefly illuminating the narrow alley with an alchemical glow before it dissipated.

‘What was that?’ Havoc asked, his voice almost lost in the chatter of the crowd as he craned his neck to get a better view.

‘Definitely some kind of alchemical discharge,’ Al replied, hurrying to keep up with his brother as Ed began to ease his way through the crowd, twisting between the knots of people. Roy and Havoc followed, but while Roy knew Ed’s eyes would be fixed on the alley like a hunter absorbed with its prey, he was far more concerned with watching the crowd.

At his side, Havoc’s breathing was deep and balanced, and he could sense the lieutenant’s hand on his gun. Opening fire in such a crowded place would be inconceivable, but the simple, brutish weapon no doubt offered as much comfort to Havoc as Roy’s gloves did to him. Neither were particularly useful in an environment like this: too unpredictable, for all the best intentions of the men putting the weapons to use, but they were the only real defences they had.

‘See anything?’ Roy asked, making sure Ed was still in sight before looking left and right, constantly checking and re-checking the mass of people for anyone who looked out of the ordinary.

‘Too many people, not enough space,’ Havoc muttered, his shoulders shifting in a terse shrug. ‘I don’t even know what I’m looking for, sir, but no one’s sparing us more than a glance. I can’t see anyone watching us, or following us.’ He tipped his head up a little, subtly checking the roofline, and Roy followed his gaze as if his head were on a puppet’s string. He had been so obsessed with people on the ground that he had not considered they could be watched from above.

Yet there was nothing on the crenulated rooftops that appeared unusual. Pigeons fluffed their feathers and the wind blew the tendrils of the occasional enterprising weed growing from the uncared for gutters, but there was no sign of human life. All the windows were bare, blank eyes looking down on the square. No coy curtains hid anyone from view, and nothing stirred beyond the dusty glass.

By the time they reached the alley, Roy’s head was beginning to ache with the effort of watching everything at once. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably, and sweat made his palms slick as he stepped into the close gloom of the narrow little street between buildings.

The air was fragranced with the familiar stench of alchemy; hot tin scented the close atmosphere, mixing with the unsavoury smell of rubbish and drains. Ed and Al were both searching the brickwork and floor, looking for anything that could lead them back to the source of the discharge, but it was obvious from their mood that they were coming up empty-handed.

‘A bolt like that shouldn’t travel far from the original array. Not unless it’s exceptionally big,’ Al said quietly, chewing on his lip as he scowled down the alleyway.

‘Or really old,’ Ed pointed out, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck as he scowled in thought. ‘A normal array letting off a discharge like that should be within ten paces of here, but…’ He shrugged, gesturing to the world around them. Buildings pinned them in on either side, and if the array was within their walls then they would never have seen the discharge. All that remained was the square behind them — too full of people to see the floor, let alone an array — or the long, clogged stretch of the alley, apparently bare.

‘So it’s not a normal array.’ Roy leaned against the wall, keeping his eyes fixed on the exposed mouth of the alley as he spoke. ‘What kind of transmutation could send out power over greater distances?’

‘Something made more than a hundred and fifty years ago, before modern, contained designs came into use, or something so big it’s falling apart under its own strain,’ Ed said with textbook confidence. His arms were folded across his chest, and when Roy glanced back he could see Ed’s eyes were hard with certainty. ‘If it’s that old, then Danner’s probably got nothing to do with it, and arrays big enough to fit the bill should be easy to find. You’re talking about something more than forty feet across.’

Roy nodded, knowing the theory well. Bigger arrays were less efficient. They took more power to activate, and often resulted in random discharges that could travel from their circumference like lightning from a storm cloud. Most alchemists kept their arrays small and simple, like the ones on his gloves. Anything big enough to cause discharges like the one they had seen would need a flat, open space to be drawn upon, one not covered in the bustling footsteps of tourists.

‘Brother, look!’

Roy turned, watching another line of power crackle over the walls towards them before arcing down to the floor, neutralising itself in the uncharged ground. The air wavered briefly in its wake, and Roy stared down the long, dark line of the alleyway to the brightness of the next street. ‘Go carefully,’ he warned, the words springing from his lips before Ed had even moved to follow the power’s path. ‘An alley opening is the perfect place for an ambush. The last thing we need is to be taken by surprise.’

‘Me and Al will go out first.’ Havoc stepped around Ed, gun now drawn and steady in his hands. ‘You and the general watch the back. It’s just as easy for someone to come running in after us and take us down as it is to wait up ahead.’

Roy said nothing to countermand the lieutenant’s instructions. They were sensible words, and he knew they had already lingered in the confined tunnel of the alleyway for too long. Danner’s disciples had not shown their faces yet, but they could still be out there, waiting for the ideal moment to strike.

His spine felt like iron, rock hard with tension as he walked sideways along the narrow passage, looking both forward and back. Muscles ached with the burn of adrenaline, ready to fight or flee, but years of practice kept his mind clear of panic.

Ed moved with confident grace at Roy’s side, giving himself just enough space to lash out if he had to. He looked ready for a fight and certain of victory regardless of the odds, and Roy knew that confidence had nothing to do with the bond. Ed’s attitude was all his own, a visible manifestation of that iron strength and determination, and it was enough to ease away the last vestiges of Roy’s tight-chested uncertainty.

Together, they watched the bustling square grow more distant. The chatter of the people ebbed away, replaced by the quiet drip of grimy water in the alleyway and, from up ahead, the splash of another fountain. Quickly, Roy racked his brains, trying to remember this part of the city, but although the busy square had been clearly etched in his memory, he could not recall ever slipping through the buildings that lined its edges to the side opposite the palace.

‘Hold,’ Havoc whispered, bringing their tiny group to a halt as he squared his shoulders and quickly stepped out of the alleyway. He twisted around to check the blind spots close to the walls before his shoulders slumped in relief. It was a brief gesture, and within a heartbeat he was at the ready again, calm, but alert. ‘All clear, there’s barely anyone here.’

Roy stepped out of the close twilight of the alleyway, blinking around as he tried to place the neat, small plaza in his memory of the city. In front of them another, smaller fountain splashed cheerfully. It had been decorated with yellow flowers, and the inscription on its side declared it to be one of the city’s old artesian wells, with fresh water for drinking brought naturally up from the ground. The buildings were quiet, with no bells over their doors or merchandise in their windows, and the few people who wandered around the smoothly paved square were quiet and hushed, almost respectful.

Finally, Roy’s eyes were drawn to the large building beyond the fountain, and he realised why the bustle of the city seemed unable to penetrate here. The temple was unused, a tribute to the lost past of the East. Massive columns supported the roof, keeping the interior dark and mysterious. A few sunbeams lanced down like spears through the dilapidated tile-work above, and there was an air of holiness emanating from within, despite the fact that no one had worshipped there for centuries.

More than that, though, was the sense of power. It poured from between the pillars, invisible but somehow tangible all the same. The gentle heat washed over Roy’s face, reminding him of the desert wind. The water spraying from the fountain wavered in response, and dry leaves skittered over the ground. It was like the breath of a giant animal, and a faint gasp caught in Roy’s throat as the quiet bond sparked into life.

The short line between him and Ed, uninterrupted by another body, glowed with bright amber light. For just an instant, he thought he could smell the scent of barley and the salty sea air. Waves pounded in the distance, and all the tension that had coiled itself in his muscles and wrapped his spine in a steel sheath washed away.

Despite all their suspicions, this place was safe.

As abruptly as it had come, the sensations vanished, and the world returned to normal once more. Roy reeled a little on his feet, disorientated by the sudden return of reality. His hand splayed on the wall as he propped himself up, vaguely aware of Ed leaning his back against the same stretch of brickwork as if his legs could no longer hold him up.

Roy had no doubt that Havoc and Al were both oblivious to whatever had just happened, senseless to whatever the bond had been trying to express, but Roy felt as if he had touched a live wire. His nerves sang and his skin buzzed. His breaths came a little too fast and hard, and he could see the hammer of Ed’s pulse in the hollow at the base of his throat and the wary confusion in his gaze as their eyes met.

‘We need to go in there,’ Roy said quietly, clearing his throat to remove the rasp from his voice. ‘There’s something inside that we need to see.’

He pushed himself away from the wall, about to march forward when Ed’s fingers closed around his wrist. ‘Wait!’ Ed jerked his head towards the centre of the plaza. ‘Do you see the guy by the fountain?’

Roy followed his gaze, seeing an old-ish man standing at the splashing pool’s edge. He had what looked like some kind of jug in his hands and was filling it with water. Thin arms shook with the strain, the veins standing out blue from beneath his skin. His clothes were not dirty, but they were ragged and threadbare, including sandals held on his feet by pieces of string. Long hair was tied back in a scrawny ponytail, and a ragged grey beard covered his lips and hung from his chin.

‘What about him?’ Roy asked, not seeing the relevance. ‘There are poor people here too, Ed, just like everywhere else in the country.’

Ed cast him a dark look, as if he were being deliberately stupid, and Al’s choked sound of surprise suggested Roy had missed something important.

‘Look at his wrist, you idiot.’

With an annoyed frown, Roy did as he was told, squinting to try and make out the detail from this distance. Abruptly, the man shifted the jug, and Roy’s next breath caught in his throat, locked there in brief puzzlement and uncertainty. There, scored into the pale, fragile flesh beneath the man’s right hand, was a soul bond array.

Just like the one he shared with Ed.


	19. Chapter 19

Suspicion bloomed in Ed’s mind, crimson against the darkness of his thoughts. Where there was one disciple, others were sure to follow, yet common sense was enough to make Ed hesitate and look again. The man at the fountain did not seem like one of Danner’s followers. They tended to be physically fit, not withered with age. The man’s trousers and shirt might be ragged, but they were a far cry from the drab, grey robes Ed had been hunting for all day. There was something innocent about his lined face. It was hard to imagine him hurting anyone, and Ed looked on as he hugged the water jug close to his chest and tottered away into the temple.

‘Disciple?’ Havoc asked, wasting no time with unnecessary words.

‘Looks more like a victim to me.’ Al’s lips were unsmiling, and his thoughtful gaze lingered on the open arches beyond the fountain. ‘He’s just going through his day, nothing else. Do you think he might be able to help us?’

‘If we let him get away, then we’ll never know, will we?’ Ed replied, shoving himself away from the wall and walking with casual purpose towards the waiting gloom. Droplets from the fountain dotted his face and caught in his hair, but he ignored the cool kiss of the water as he scanned the columns and their shadows.

His eyes lifted upwards to the roof, taking in the engraved lettering over the door, now faded beyond all recognition. One or two simple statues, worn smooth by time, flanked the approach, and the lure of power from within drew him closer, beckoning him inwards.

Ed knew alchemy. In a baffling world, it was his only certainty, and even then it sometimes took him by surprise. This was an old kind of energy, the type that bypassed upper thought function and spoke to him through the soles of his feet and the blood in his veins. Whoever created the array causing the discharges had probably lived here long ago. However, just because Danner had no hand in its birth, that did not mean the bastard had never been to this place.

He could be in there now: waiting.

Quietly, Ed approached one of the columns, careful not to silhouette himself against the opening. He could feel the others behind him, all moving with the same honed caution and driven on by the need for answers.

Easing himself around the hard curve of the stonework, Ed gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom, relying on his other senses as his vision pitched and wavered. The air smelled fresh, cleansed by the breeze drawn in to the plaza. Against his skin, it felt electric: a prickling rush that made the bond jump and spark. High in the carved ceiling, pigeons roosted, their feathers whispering like prayers as they settled on the heads of statues and crooned to one another, but there was no audible sound of human life. No footsteps stirred the peace, and there were no voices to indicate that they were not alone.

Finally, he looked around the large chamber, picking out shapes in the uncertain shadows. Sunbeams from the roof danced with dust motes, providing stark contrast with the holy, velveteen dusk around them. Benches carved of stone were ranked like soldiers to face an intricate altar. Here, sheltered from the elements and untouched by human hands, the detail had survived, and a prickle of unease ran down Ed’s spine as he glared at the wall behind the plinth.

‘Looks like a door,’ Havoc whispered, his hushed words sharp in the tranquillity. ‘You’d think it would be a statue of a god or something.’

‘It’s the Gate,’ Ed replied, tearing his eyes from the all-too-familiar visage. Perhaps they had not got the detail right. There was no carving on the doors, and the pillars were nowhere near that intricate, but he still knew the Gate when he saw it. ‘Looks like they had the sense to worship something that actually exists.’

‘Not the kind of thing to listen to prayers, though.’ Al did not sound as bitter as he did hurt, and Ed glanced over to see his younger brother watching the carving with a frown on his brow. His hand was clenched white-knuckled around the strap of the satchel, but it took only a moment for his eyes to look away, taking in the other details of the temple.

Ed followed his brother’s gaze, noticing that grime lay thick on every horizontal surface. Only the floor was relatively clean, and a clear, narrow path picked its way between the benches like a deer track through the forest. A hundred or so paces away, half-concealed by the loving shadows that clung between the inner columns, a clumsy wooden doorway had been placed in what had once been a stone archway.

‘There’s more to this place than what we’re seeing,’ Ed murmured. ‘There’s got to be. The floor’s not big enough for the kind of array we’re looking for. We need to search for other rooms.’

‘Most churches and temples have an outer area like this one, then an inner sanctum where only the priests can go.’ Roy shrugged as if ashamed of the knowledge. ‘Soldiers knew in the Ishbal war to check the inner sanctums of the temples, and Amestris has used its own religious buildings as munitions stores before. Plenty of hidden spaces.’ He pointed towards the door Ed had seen, and then to a matching one on the other side. ‘They’ll probably lead right to it, but we need to be careful.’

‘We should split up,’ Ed suggested, shifting his weight as he fought against the temptation to simply give chase. ‘If they both connect to the same place, then we could go down one while whoever’s in there runs out the other.’ He sighed, feeling Roy’s dislike of that idea zap through the bond, but he pressed on, trying to explain.

‘Look around. This is probably the only way in,’ Ed pointed out, gesturing back to the plaza at their backs. ‘If there was a bunch of Danner’s disciples coming through here, we’d see it. There’d be more tracks in the dust, and everything would be disturbed.’

Havoc nodded, cutting in with a whisper. ‘He’s right, sir. Whoever’s here is respecting the place. Not worshipping it, maybe, but leaving it to rest in peace. I’d guess there are one, maybe two people beyond those doors, and I expect we’re going to be more of a threat to them than they are to us.’

Silence enveloped them, carrying away the seconds as Roy contemplated their options. Doubt was written all over his face, clear for Ed to see, but eventually he gave a grudging nod. ‘Don’t take anything for granted,’ Roy reminded them, keeping his voice low. ‘Ed and Al, you go right. Havoc and I will take the left path. If you end up anywhere but a large inner sanctum, turn around and come back. Don’t go exploring on your own.’

‘We’ll yell if we find anything,’ Al promised, hurrying to keep up with Ed. ‘Brother, wait!’

Ed strode forward, desperate to be on the move. He picked his way through the pews, ignoring the little puffs of dust that lifted from the ground with each step. It was only when he reached the door that he paused to give Al a chance to catch up.

Quickly, he checked the hinges, expecting to find rust and grunge. Yet unlike everything else in this place, they were maintained and well-oiled. Whoever had put up the door had not really known what they were doing. The metal plates were hammered into the stonework, and the barrels bent clumsily around the pins. Still, the door served its purpose, blocking out the rest of the world, and Ed tried the old iron handle as Al paused at his side.

The wood moved smoothly, swinging outward unimpeded to reveal a narrow, stone-cut passageway beyond. The weak sunlight did not reach this far in to the temple, and Ed muttered a curse. He needed some light, and Roy’s arrays flourished across his mind as he clapped his hands. A flame no bigger than that of a candle jumped to life in his palm. It stuttered and wobbled in the drafty temple, but as Ed curved his fingers around the glow, it grew more steady.

Feeding the small flame required a massive amount of focus, and he found himself stumbling along in Al’s footsteps. The light in his hands was enough to push the shadows back, and he kept the beacon bright enough to show them the way without revealing them to anyone waiting up ahead. Ed was so engrossed in the effort that he almost did not notice the array on the wall, and it was only when Al stopped dead in front of him that he looked up.

‘See that?’ Al’s finger tapped at the design, a bare half-inch away from the softly glowing perimeter.

Ed’s first thought was of a trap, but the pieces of the array were all wrong. ‘One of Dad’s,’ he said after a moment, peering more closely at the simple swirl of shapes. ‘It’s not even meant to do anything. It’s just a…’

‘Sign?’ Al smiled as Ed rolled his eyes. ‘At least we know we’re in the right place.’

‘All he’s done is given it a bit of power, enough to make it glow.’ Ed reached out, scratching carefully at the circumference. The stone here was good. It did not crumble at his touch, and he could feel the faint purr of the alchemy, like an old cat sleeping in front of the fire. ‘I think it’s been here a while.’

‘It’s been two years since he passed on, Brother,’ Al pointed out, craning his neck to see around the curve of the passageway.

‘I mean more like a decade old. Whatever’s going on, Dad knew about it for more than just a couple of years.’ Ed moved on, his footsteps falling into easy unison with Al’s as they followed the passageway’s wavering path. It twisted left and right, and the floor never seemed to be level. After five minutes Ed was completely disoriented and growing increasingly frustrated.

‘How deep does this fucking thing go?’ he demanded, trudging down another shallow slope and grunting in annoyance as another of his dad’s arrays glowed up ahead. They had been interspersed at regular intervals all the way along the tunnel, but Ed was beginning to wonder if they were simply being led in circles.

‘It’s probably for security. Perhaps the priests hope that any thieves would give up without finding the inner sanctum?’ Al shrugged, rounding another corner and coming to a halt so quickly that Ed almost walked into his back. A glance over his brother’s shoulder showed him the weak, uncertain light coming from the room ahead, and he snuffed out the flame in his hand before creeping forward.

Someone was talking, his reedy voice drifting through the air, but it seemed to be a conversation of one. No one replied to the man’s enthusiastic descriptions or answered his questions. Half the time his words were too quiet to be audible, as if he were speaking to himself, and Ed cautiously peered out of the passageway’s mouth.

The man from the fountain was sitting on a throne-like chair, munching on an apple and talking with his mouth full to the empty air. The jug of water stood at his feet, and a tub with what looked like dirty clothes sat nearby. There were other bits of battered furniture around: a threadbare rug and a bedroll that probably played host to fleas. A basket full of food, mostly fallen fruit and scraps, sat on a chipped and slightly charred table, and all of it was arranged chillingly around a stone sarcophagus.

Plinths occupied the corner of the room, but Ed could only see the two nearest to him because the oil bowls on top had been lit. The back wall of the chamber was hidden in darkness, as was the far side of the room. Only faint lines of dull red disturbed the shadows, and Ed frowned as he realised their massive curve must be the array releasing the discharges.

As if ignited by his thoughts, the design suddenly glowed brighter, throwing the nearby columns into ruddy relief. The crackling power peaked and a bolt shot upwards, seeking out the metal minerals in the stone and creating traceries upwards to a distant dome.

‘There goes another one,’ the man on the throne mused aloud. ‘Wonder what’s wrong with it? Never had this kind of trouble before.’

Suddenly his head jerked up, eyes wide as he craned his head around, staring at the lingering darkness. Ed pulled back into the gloom, but it was too late. Somehow the strange old man knew he was not alone, and he raised his quivering voice in question.

'Who's there? I don't have anything to steal, you know. You can see that for yourself.'

Ed shared a cringing, guilty glance with Al, knowing that the longer they lingered in uncertain silence, the more frightened the man would become. Reaching down, he jerked the bandage from his wrist, letting it fall to the floor before he stepped forward from the twilight and into the light of the oil lamps.

'I'm not here to steal anything,' he promised, lifting his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. Instantly, the man's eyes flickered to the array on his wrist, but he did not seem surprised. Instead he nodded to himself as if he had been waiting all along. 'I just want to ask you some questions.'

The man grinned, revealing yellow teeth for a brief moment before he scratched at his beard. He might have been talking to himself, but Ed could see that there was a sharp mind at work inside that skull, not ruthless, but perceptive.

'I wondered when you would be coming.' He beckoned Ed closer. 'Come on, no point in you hanging about in the dark. Bring your friends, too.'

'You know me?' Ed demanded, dropping his hands to his sides and starting forward, curiosity overwhelming caution. Al's footsteps behind him were joined by others approaching from the dark side of the room, but Ed barely noticed Roy and Havoc step into the light.

'I know _of_ you,' the man corrected. 'Hard not to, being in this place. Besides, I heard enough of Danner's drivel to know you're his golden ones. You've got to be. Just look at you.' He crouched down, picking up a tatty book of matches from the floor before padding away into the darkness. His sandals slapped out a rhythm on the floor, and when they stopped the scrape of a match filled the air before another oil bowl sprang into life.

‘Danner bound you then?’ the man said conversationally, eyes drifting from Ed to Roy and back again before a crooked, pleased smile crossed his lips. ‘But not to himself. No, I guess not. The world would know about that by now.’

Roy stepped up to Ed’s side, close enough that they were shoulder-to-shoulder. It was a protective move, and Ed gave a very quiet growl of annoyance. If Roy heard it, he ignored it, giving Ed nothing more than a meaningful glance before he spoke.

‘Danner’s been leading us around in circles. He kidnaps, kills and then vanishes again. Anything you can tell us about what he’s doing could help us bring a stop to his madness, mister…’ he trailed off, and the man’s faint sigh drifted out of the darkness as more oil ignited, lifting the shroud of night from the room.

‘Garrick. Call me Garrick,’ he replied. ‘I know what Danner’s like. I worked with him once. Everything was a mask: a front for his ambitions. He worked hard, kept his head down and no one realised what he was until it was too late.’ Garrick bowed his head, fiddling with the box of matches. They rattled in their cardboard confines, amplifying the shake of his hands.

‘How long ago did he put that array on your wrist?’ Roy gestured to the man’s right hand, indicating the design. ‘I’m guessing it was a while before he tried it with me. I would have ended up bound to one of Danner’s disciples if Ed had not taken control of the array.’

‘You made a mess of his plans?’ Garrick’s eyes gleamed in the darkness, and Ed knew that expression of vindictive glee well enough. ‘Bet that put a real spanner in his works. Good for you, but I suppose you know it makes you a target?’ He waved a hand, dismissing his own question as foolish before he tottered back to the chair and perched on its seat. His fingers curled claw-like around the arms, and the twitches of his body had faded, replaced by tightly coiled muscle as he began to explain.

‘Almost ten years ago, Danner turned up at my house. He had left work some two years before, but I still knew him as an acquaintance, if not a friend.’ Garrick licked his lips, the focus of his eyes changing as his voice fell into flat, emotionless tones. ‘Should have known better. The man was distraught, bloodied like he had been in a fight. Said he needed the help of my wife and I. We both worked in the medical field. She was a doctor, and I was a researcher. I just --' He shook his head, the next words dark and cracking. ‘I just thought he needed patching up.’

‘He must have taken you somewhere for what he had planned.’ Ed frowned, barely daring to breathe as Garrick nodded.

‘We went like lambs. He said he had friends who needed help, and we believed him. He brought us here, to the outer room of this place. Late at night — the streets were deserted. If anyone saw the transmutation they just didn’t care.’ Garrick tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. ‘As soon as we stepped through those pillars, his friends were on us. They drugged us and tied us in place while Danner rambled on about the power of souls.’

‘Friends?’ Ed asked. ‘Were they wearing robes, like religious followers?’

Slowly, Garrick shook his head. ‘It was such a long time ago, but no. Half a dozen of them maybe, all with the same gleam in their eye. Other than that, they looked normal. Like anyone else you would meet on the street.’ Straightening his shoulders, Garrick looked Ed in the eye, dark brown irises almost black with pain and resentment. ‘He made it clear we were a practice run — the first step in a long journey. He would never tarnish himself by binding his soul to just anyone’s. He was after a golden one.’

‘You’ve said that before,’ Al murmured. ‘Do you know what it means? Do you know why Danner thinks we’re so special?’

Garrick shook his head, shrugging his shoulders as he gestured around the vast room. ‘Light the rest of the oil lamps. The murals might tell you something. I keep them hidden: I don’t — I don’t like them.’

Ed watched as Havoc gently took the matches from the old man’s hand. His footsteps echoed around the chamber as he did as he was instructed, checking the contents of the bowls before dropping the match into the oil’s loving embrace. Gradually, more lamps roared to life, illuminating pillars and casting flickering shadows up the walls to the distant ceiling.

The murals were ancient, faded by the passage of the years. In some places the plaster had fallen away, but as soon as Ed’s eyes fell on the surface he saw nothing of the pictures. Instead, in every inch of space, twisting like clockwork, were hundreds of arrays. They glowed a dull, burnished bronze, waltzing slowly in space. Ed stared in amazement as he realised that each circle was just part of a greater whole. If one array went down the whole thing would fade, but even as his gaze jumped from one design to the next he knew who had put them in place.

‘Hohenheim?’ Roy murmured in his ear, and Ed glanced up to see dark eyes transfixed on the far wall. ‘He did all this?’

‘Did all what?’ Havoc asked, lighting the final oil bowl and standing back to look around the room. ‘The paintings?’

Ed blinked, re-focussing his eyes on the images beneath the twisting, living alchemy. Like most murals, it looked like it told a story, and something cold darted down his spine. ‘There are arrays as well. I wonder if Danner knew this was here.’

‘He did,’ Garrick muttered. ‘Though he never mentioned arrays. Just the paintings. Seemed to think they were important. After he’d bound me to my wife, his friends were dead. They probably never knew what hit them — nothing but blood and bone. They were cleaned up, and we were locked away in here. Weeks, maybe even months of listening to him. He was besotted with the idea. Power. It was all about power.’

Ed turned around, looking over his shoulder at the old man as something stirred in the back of his mind. ‘What happened to your wife?’ he asked quietly, not sure that he even wanted to know.

Garrick’s dark gaze slid over the floor to rest on the sarcophagus, and he curled the fingers of his left hand around his wrist as his voice turned rough. ‘Another experiment. Danner moved too quick. He activated some kind of array on her chest and — and she was gone. He expected me to die too. Saw that in his eyes, but when I didn’t…’ Garrick looked up, his lips pressed into a tight line as he met Ed’s eyes. ‘Satisfaction. He looked like he had done something right. He left me here with her body. I don’t, I don’t know how to explain what it was like.’

Something deep in Ed’s stomach, dank and cold, curled in on itself. If Danner knew a fool-proof way of killing one bond-mate while keeping the other alive, then Roy was in even more danger than they had realised. They knew one of the recent disciples survived the death of their other half, but from everything Ed had heard the man was beyond the reach of sanity. Garrick, for all his strangeness, was lucid enough. Was that what Danner was hoping to do to him and Roy?

‘Why did you stay here?’ Al’s question was little more than a cracked whisper. ‘Weren’t you afraid Danner would come back?’

Garrick put his elbows on his knees, his fingers tunnelling into his hair as he stared at the floor. ‘You don’t understand, boy. I can’t leave. I’ve tried.’ He shook his head sharply. ‘Moving on? It’s impossible. I don’t want to leave. Every time I try, I’m compelled back to this place.’ He looked over at the sarcophagus, twining his fingers together. ‘Love bound us long before Danner came along. I suppose that’s the kind of tie that nothing can break. Might even make it stronger for all I know.’

Ed looked over at Roy, meeting his gaze and feeling something tremble like fluttering wings beneath his ribs. It only lasted for a moment, but as Ed tore his eyes away his heart sped up, pattering in his chest as his stomach jolted. Emotion and alchemy often influenced one another, he knew that, but whatever was going on between him and Roy was different than that.

Desire was one thing, but love?

‘I think this is the start of the painting!’ Havoc called out, his voice carrying across the room and cutting through Ed’s thoughts. ‘It seems to go that way around the room.’ He swung his arm in a wide arc, head tipped to one side and his nose wrinkled in thought. ‘Looks like, I don’t know, gods and war or something?’

Ed squinted, trying to look beyond the dancing arrays to the pictures beneath. They were primitive, constructed in tones of faded white and yellow, but the images steadily took shape as the story unfurled. If he had not heard the tale from his father, he would never have begun to comprehend what was happening, but it was easy enough to see that the second scene was the fall of Xerces.

‘Story of my dad’s life,’ he muttered, his hands clenched into fists at his side as he followed it around. After the ruination, one man stood surrounded by an aura of power. The clumsy eyes were golden, and long hair flowed down his back. Again and again, great deeds were depicted, and in every one the Gate stood tall and proud, linked with brassy lines to the pictures of Hohenheim.

‘So what’s the first picture about?’ Al turned to his brother, eyebrows raised as he waved towards it. ‘It’s more detailed than the rest, but I’m not sure what it means.’

Ed glanced back, taking in the dozens of people standing around. In the first half, they were talking and laughing, bright and shining. Behind them, a gigantic archway stood, doors thrown open wide, but their colouring seemed to chase off the darkness. Yet in the second half, the Gate was closed, more recognisable in that shuttered state. The people themselves were in shackles and collars, chained like animals.

Shaking his head, Ed grimaced and rubbed at his eyes. ‘Enslavement, probably. Dad never said he was born in Xerces or anything. It doesn’t matter. The pictures can’t tell us anything definite.’

‘But you think the arrays can?’ Roy asked, giving a knowing smile. He glanced over his shoulder at Garrick, and Ed briefly followed his gaze, but the old man was peaceful, calm and quiet on his throne. ‘Do you even know what they mean?’

‘Give me an hour, and I’ll let you know.’ Ed scratched his chin, his gaze flicking from the array smeared walls to the large, dying star of alchemy that still hummed and discharged on the floor. ‘Do we have that much time?’

Roy pulled his watch free from his pocket, white gloves slipping on the silver before he got the lid open. ‘We can’t get the train home tonight anyway, but I’d like to be out of here before dark. Let me know as soon as you find anything.’

Ed nodded, striding towards the array in the centre of the floor first. He was certain it was a beacon, something his dad had created to bring them here, but looking at it now he could see the intelligence and complexity at its core. The trigger was complex, frequency attuned, and Ed hunkered down by the circumference as he traced the lines. It was always meant to release those discharges, not because it was breaking down, but because that was how it had been built. Also, it was not as old as he had thought: a few decades, but not centuries. It was simply built in the modern day using ancient principles.

‘I think you’re right,’ Al said quietly, making Ed look up in surprise to see him standing at his side. ‘Earlier you said it came to life when you and the general were bound. I wonder how long it’s been here?’

Looking over his shoulder at the painted walls, Ed shrugged, taking a deep breath as he carefully put his fingertips to the array’s edge. ‘However long it’s sat there, it’s done its job now. We’re here. Now all we have to do is work out what he’s trying to tell us.’

Closing his eyes, Ed focused on the throbbing beat of power beneath him. It was ragged and hoary, a staggering pulse, and he began to blend it back into a normal rhythm, something controlled rather than teetering on the edge of collapse. It was simple enough alchemy, and, bit by bit, the energy ebbed away, safely flowing into the neutral ground as Ed deactivated the transmutation circle. Finally, with one quick clap of his hands, he obliterated it, carefully pulling the stone on the floor inwards to cover the lines and hide them from sight.

Staggering to his feet, he braced a palm against one of the pillars nearby, waiting for the heady rush of the energy seeping through him to abate. Roy’s gentle grip on his elbow was all-too-natural, and he sagged into the support before his pride had a chance to snarl any complaints. Normally deactivating arrays did not make him quite so disoriented, but his father had filled those lines to the brim with power, and neutralising it all was enough to make his head spin and lurch.

‘You all right?’ Roy asked, his grip tightening a fraction on Ed’s arm as he moved closer.

‘Just give me a minute,’ Ed asked, opening his eyes and making sure the room had stopped performing a giddy waltz. ‘There was enough energy in that to keep it going for years. Whatever Dad wanted us to find, he was fairly desperate.’ He looked again at the spinning arrays on the wall, watching them dance against one another. It would be hard enough to work out what it was for if it were laid out on a page, but drawn all over a wall and moving?

‘I’ve never seen arrays do that before,’ Al murmured, looking over at his brother with clouded eyes. ‘Are you sure it’s something Dad made?’

Gently, Ed moved away from Roy’s side, bracing his feet wide and folding his arms over his chest as he gazed at the most complex section. Al was right, this kind of alchemy was almost unheard of, and if it were not for one phantom-like memory, Ed would never have believed his father had made it.

‘When you were a baby, about nine months old or so, I can remember Dad drawing arrays on paper and making them spin, just like those ones.’ Ed shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat at the confession. ‘Just a dumb trick to keep his kid entertained. Now I’m wondering if he was trying to tell me something, even back then.’

Stepping back, Ed tried to take in all of it, from the fast moving epicentre to the slower, orbiting wheels of alchemy on the outside. Garrick said Danner had not mentioned them all those years ago. Could it be possible that the priest had not been able to see them? Had Hohenheim somehow encoded them to only be visible to his sons? Roy knew they were there — he was staring at the enormous sweep of transmutation now — but perhaps if it were not for the bond he would be blind to their glowing presence.

‘Any ideas?’ Roy asked, tearing himself away from the transfixing display to look at Ed. ‘I didn’t even know this kind of alchemy was possible. Does the movement play some kind of role, or is it just there to confuse people?’

Ed narrowed his eyes, giving himself time to think. At first glance the whole thing seemed chaotic, but if he looked beyond the lines and circles, cutting down through the symbols to the simple flow of power beneath, it was obvious what had to be done. ‘The arrays are dormant and self-contained,’ he explained, moving closer to the wall and examining each one more closely. ‘Right now they’re not transmuting anything. They’re just existing, with a little bit of power going back and forth to keep them moving. You just need to activate the right one at the right time and —’

‘You’ll get a cascade to the middle, and a transmutation will occur,’ Roy interrupted, his hands falling limp to his side as he shook his head. ‘I’m not sure what amazes me more. That your father came up with this, or that you know how it works.’

‘It’s easy once you know what you’re looking for,’ Ed replied absently, still giving each array a critical look. ‘Al, can you give me a hand? We’re searching for a simple trigger, just something to spark the whole thing into life. Single circle with a basic sigil, probably.’

Losing himself in the search was simple, and Ed forgot all about the other people in the room as he focussed on a world of energy and displacement, conversion and storage. The realm of intrigue and murder was complicated, but _this_ he understood. It felt like he knew alchemy in his soul, sometimes, and what for most alchemists would have been a crippling enigma was almost as straightforward as writing his name.

‘Is this it?’ Al called out, gesturing to a small design on the wall.

Ed followed his pointing finger, taking in the tiny spinning circle, no bigger than his palm. It was well hidden among arrays of roughly the same size, and Ed quickly picked his way through the tangled, intricate path the power would take to the middle of the design.

‘That looks right,’ Ed said at last, clenching his hands into brief fists before relaxing them again. ‘I guess there’s only one way to find out if it’s the right one.’

‘And if it’s not?’ Havoc asked from where he leant against one of the pillars, keeping watch over Garrick as he let the others work. ‘Your dad’s not going to put together something that might kill you, is he?’

Ed shrugged as he stepped closer to the wall, grunting in annoyance before taking off his gloves. The arrays were closely packed in this section, and the last thing he wanted to do was trigger the wrong one by accident. He had never had much faith in his father, but Ed was painfully aware that if even one line was out of place within Hohenheim’s creation, then it would not be a cascade, but an explosion. The temple would not survive it, and neither would they.

‘You might want to stand back a bit,’ he said over his shoulder, glaring as Al crossed his arms and Roy raised an eyebrow in disbelief. No doubt they knew that a few feet of distance would not save their lives, but it seemed to make Havoc feel better as he obediently trotted to the other side of the room.

Licking his lips, Ed squared his shoulders, bracing his feet on the floor as he lowered his hands to the array. As soon as his skin touched the trigger, Ed knew they had found the right one. It drew in the power it needed, sucking greedily as the air began to whine. Discordant notes clashed along the bond, and a sweat broke out across Ed’s brow.

The array pulled at his fingertips, turning faster and burning brighter until, at last, the cascade exploded into life. Blue-edged light flared from every circle, and Ed staggered back to see the power sweep along the wall. It unfurled like wings, filling the room with the hiss of energy before converging back on the large, central design.

Roy’s hand around his wrist dragged him back as the spinning array ground to a halt, its sigils incandescent. There was nothing simple about the transmutation circle. Where Ed would have expected elemental symbols — fire and earth — he saw jagged, sharp characters: it was all about raw power. Everything else was inconsequential.

A flicker of light caught his attention, and Ed gaped as the smaller arrays began to disappear. Like dying stars, they winked out one by one, obliterated by the intentional overload of energy. After less than a minute, only five circles remained. Four were about as big across as Ed’s forearm was long, and they were arranged at the compass points around the central array.

‘That’s it?’ Havoc asked. ‘That’s all it does?’

‘You can see them?’ Ed asked, letting out the breath that had locked itself up in his chest.

‘Plain as day,’ Havoc replied with a shrug, glancing over as Garrick staggered forward to take a look. ‘Have they been there all along?’

Ed jerked his head in a nod, frowning as he tried to explain.‘They were hidden away so people wouldn’t mess about with them. Without another normal alchemist here, it’s hard to be sure, but I think if it weren’t for the bond Roy wouldn’t have seen them either. They were just for me and Al.’

‘So the two of you could do what, exactly?’ Roy asked, moving closer to get a better look at the circles on the wall.

Despite himself, Ed smiled, because as the other, smaller arrays had vanished, he had seen the last piece of the puzzle falling in to place. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the key. In this holy place, its surface shimmered with a light of its own, pulsing to the power that seemed to resonate in the air.

‘It’s an alchemical lock,’ he replied, counting over the markings in the arrays to be sure. ‘The array won’t activate to an alchemist touching it, not properly. It needs the key, too.’ He moved over to the wall, his gaze too absorbed in his father’s creation to pay attention to anyone else. He might have hated the bastard for walking out on them, but even he could feel a faint flicker of pride at his father’s mastery over alchemy. The power might not have been his, leant to him as it was from the dead of Xerces, but the intelligence to put this kind of thing together must have been Hohenheim’s from the start.

Without hesitation, Ed splayed his left fingertips on the edge of the array, knowing from sight what he had to do. It was a simple matter to stretch up, pressing the strange tumblers of the key to the stone at the middle of the central design.

Instantly, the power snapped shut like a steel trap, seizing the key as the rock contorted and the circles gleamed with a wanton, crimson light. They began to spin once more, moving in slow, shuddering jolts until, one by one, they slammed into place.

With a sandy whisper, the wall began to undulate. The painting beneath twitched gruesomely as the surface shimmied in the lamp light, and a small portion of the stonework, no bigger than a brick, disintegrated. Dust rained down, catching in Ed’s hair and coating his skin in grit as a small, shallow hole opened up like a waking eye. Biting back a curse, Ed cuffed the sand from his face before reaching up. Questing fingers brushed against something metal, and with a grunt of effort he managed to pull it free.

‘I hope we haven’t been through all that for another map,’ Roy murmured, voicing Ed’s bitter doubts as he peered over Ed’s shoulder at the squat, metal box. It was just like the one they had found in Risembool, and Ed took a moment to study the design on its lid before shaking his head.

‘That array’s just for preservation. It’s protecting whatever’s inside from falling apart.’ Taking in a deep breath, he flipped open the lid, feeling the last tendrils of power fade away. The box’s interior was stark and unadorned, bare except for the folded sheaf of papers stuffed inside. They looked old, turned yellow despite the alchemy at work and already starting to crumble around the edges. Yet it was the words on the front, scribed in his dad’s familiar handwriting, that told Ed they had found what they were searching for.

Chewing on his lip, Ed pulled the papers free, dropping the box into his brother’s waiting hands as he quickly unfolded the first page and began to read. He did not even feel Roy move away, giving him unexpected privacy, nor Al move closer to read every word their father had seen fit to put on the page. Ed was too lost in the letter, his heart racing as dread ensnared him in its grasp.

_“I wish I could be there to help you, yet I am writing to a ghost of my future. Perhaps I will never have children, but if I do, I know that one day they will be faced with the prospect of my distant past. If nothing else, I have left this for you to find should events begin to flow down the treacherous path of the Saffron Soul._

_The temple in which you stand is dedicated not only to the Gate of Truth, the power behind all alchemy, but to an ancient race. Once, they had great power and a natural affinity for alchemy, but even that could not save them from enslavement. Taken from their homes, robbed of their culture, they forgot what they were — and what they were capable of._

_When Xerces fell, I was the only one of those slaves who remained. Cursed and alone, I set out to find where I belonged. Yet instead of a civilisation, I found only stories. Among the people of the East I was met with both reverence and greed. The legend of our people lived on: Golden Ones — Saffron Souls… We were called many things, but all I had was rumour and myth until I found this place._

_The monks explained what was written in their scriptures: that once there had been people of the Gate — human beings intrinsically and intimately connected to the source of alchemy’s power. It was prophesied that, with the right array, other, normal alchemists could use a descendent of that race as a conduit, bringing the immense power of the Gate into the hands of the common alchemist with no fear of equivalent exchange._

_Now, I wish I had believed them. They warned me that this was not a joyous ascension, but an apocalypse, taking the science of alchemy into the realm of godly powers and placing it in the hands of people incapable of control. Yet at the time I walked away, leaving them here to worship the Gate and guard my secrets. I lived my life as best I could as the centuries passed and almost forgot about the stories I had been told._

_Then, a few months ago, I heard of a young man named Danner._

_After so many years of living in obscurity, unrecognised by anyone, it was a shock to hear that people were asking around about the Saffron Soul. They appeared not to understand what it was they were looking for, but there are whispers of theories -- binding one soul to another. If this is true, if Danner is looking for a way to make this a reality, then the monks’ warnings are at last making sense._

_Binding a Saffron Soul, using them as a shield from the Gate’s wrath and a conduit for that power… It would work. I see that now._

_I am the only one left, the only suitable candidate, and so I head west, but not without leaving this here for you. I wish I could say it is a warning, but such things are impossible. Even if I am there in your childhood, to speak of this would put you in too much danger. It is better not to know what you are until there is no other choice._

_That is where you stand now. The arrays I designed have been activated by the successful bondage of your soul to another._

_It is unbreakable, except by death. I have worked on nothing else for the past few weeks, but I can find no safe way to separate two souls united in this way. The designs in the following pages are alternatives, options for you -- desperate as they may be. For the sake of yourself and the normal people of Amestris, you cannot let him or anyone else gain access to the Gate through you. Save yourself from being at his mercy._

_Do not live as I have done: A slave.”_

He signed it with his name, and Ed blinked himself away from the chaotic ringing of his thoughts to take in the date at the top. ‘This was written twenty-six years ago,’ he managed, clearing his throat to remove the hoarseness from his voice. ‘We weren’t even born yet.’ He turned to Al, taking in his brother’s pinched lips and furrowed brow. ‘He left this behind for any kids he might have. Just in case.’

‘It’s not even a warning, not really.’ Al met Ed’s gaze steadily, but he could still see the fear in his little brother’s eyes. ‘It’s a last resort. He thought it was better to keep the knowledge hidden until there was no alternative.’

Ed grunted, shaking his head before thrusting the papers at Roy for him to read. Shoving his hand in his pocket, he kicked at a loose stone on the floor, watching it skitter away into the shadows. ‘Too little, too late — same as always.’

Al sighed, leaning back against one of the pillars and letting the satchel fall to the ground at his feet. His shoulders were slumped, but his expression was focussed and intense. ‘If what Dad said is true, then Danner’s been working on this most of his life. We already knew he did electro-shock therapy research and stuff, but this?’ Al scratched his head. ‘Until the bodies started showing up, we had no idea what was happening, but Danner’s been doing it for years. Mr Garrick’s proof of that.’

He looked over at the frail man for confirmation, and Ed followed his gaze, taking in Garrick’s hunched shoulders and nervous, patter-patter pacing. His fingers kept tangling in his beard, moving with shaky nerves, and it was a couple of seconds before the man realised they were waiting for his answer.

‘Ten years ago Danner got me, perhaps a little less. I — time went strange for a while. Once they killed my wife…’ He shrugged, shaking his head and straightening up to look around with clear brown eyes. ‘I was mad for a while, I think. Then a man came. At the time I did not think anything of it, but he was helping me. He let me breathe again. A small change, that was all. See?’

He held out his wrist to the light, pointing to one sigil. Leaning in closer, Ed examined it, and for the first time he was able to see all the minuscule differences that separated Garrick’s soul bond from the one he shared with Roy. It was like a roughly hewn statue compared to the polished final version. That was what had kept Danner busy all this time. He had stripped the array back down to its foundations, using and killing people as he built it up to something stronger and better than ever before.

The symbol Garrick had pointed out was newer, and Ed drew in a breath as the design made sense. Once Garrick’s wife had been killed, it had been like an open wound, pouring life down the bond to a corpse. The alteration meant it fed in a loop, full-circle back to Garrick. It was clumsy: some element of the tether to his wife probably still remained, but at least it gave the man his mind and his life to call his own, even if it was a sad sort of existence.

‘I don’t even remember what he looked like, but he spent hours looking at that wall, checking it time and again. Added things to the corridors too, little circles that led the way.’ Garrick smiled sadly, tipping his head to one side as Ed stepped back. ‘Your father, I suppose?’

Ed looked over at Al, sharing a glance that communicated everything. Of course Hohenheim had returned to the East. Risembool was not far enough from the city to be safe from a man like Danner. ‘He came back,’ Ed said with a shrug. ‘Maybe Danner moved on or something, went somewhere else, and he thought it was safe again.’

‘Safe enough to check on things, at least.’ Al rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, and Ed knew he was counting back the years and thinking back to where they would have been at that time. Training with Izumi, probably, and getting ready to make the biggest mistake of their lives. Instead of by their side, their dad had been here, neck deep in the whole thing with the homunculi and Father, and this… older than any of that but just as dangerous.

‘Danner wants you so he can have the Gate,’ Roy murmured, his face grim as his continued to read. He stood like a statue, utterly motionless except for the steadiness of his breaths and the skim of his eyes. ‘All alchemists have some kind of connection to it, but this —’ He looked up at the first portion of the mural, where golden people stood in front of an open gateway. ‘It would be a direct bond. There’d be nothing to stop him, not if he was using you as a channel.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Al said quietly, pushing himself away from the pillar and starting to pace. ‘The Gate wouldn’t act out its equivalent exchange on Danner but it would still do it to us. We’re not immune.’ He waved his hand meaningfully towards Ed. ‘It’ll still take its price from us until there’s nothing left to give! It won’t work for long.’

The words of his father’s message flickered through Ed’s mind, and he shook his head. ‘No, remember the monks? They said there was something that could be reawakened. Some kind of... I don’t know, immunity, affinity, that kind of thing. If that’s true it could mean the Gate wouldn’t ask for anything. Like tricking it into thinking it’s a Saffron Soul that wants the power when it’s Danner, really.’

Havoc cleared his throat, his blue eyes faintly pinched as if he were struggling to understand what they were going on about. ‘Bit of a risk, isn’t it?’ he asked, shifting his weight. ‘I mean, even if your dad was one of them, your mum wasn’t. Danner’s got no way of knowing how that’ll work.’

‘I think he’s desperate enough to try anyway,’ Roy said darkly, folding the sheaf of papers and tucking them in his inside pocket. ‘Is there anything here that can tell us anything more?’ It was a general question, probably directed at Garrick as much as Ed, but even as the old man shook his head Ed knew the temple had given up all of its secrets.

Perhaps if people had still worshipped here, if those ancient monks had still survived, they would have been able to tell them more, but Hohenheim had left them enough to work with. Now, at least, they knew why Danner was going to all that effort. If he thought he had an array that would not only bind Ed’s soul but somehow restore the properties of _the Saffron Soul_ within him, then all his power-hungry actions made a sick kind of sense.

‘We need to —’

‘Shhh!’ Garrick’s hiss was loud in the quiet chamber, and Ed looked over to see the old man in a half-crouch, eyes bright and alert as he cocked his head to one side. His outstretched hands were shaking, and his tongue darted over his lips as he looked frantically around the room. ‘Someone’s outside, in the outer chamber.’

‘What?’ Havoc’s loud whisper carried up to the ceiling, and he mouthed a curse as he pulled his gun free from its holster. ‘How do you know?’

Garrick’s only answer was to cup a hand around his ear, and Ed followed his mute instruction, holding his breath as he strained his ears to hear over the crackle of the oil bowls. For a few seconds, all he could make out was the throb of his own heart and the ragged sound of his breathing.

Suddenly, the distant scrape of a boot against stone rasped through the air. The tunnels probably amplified the sound, but it still seemed uncomfortably close, and Ed bit back a snarl as he tried to guess which passage the intruders would emerge from.

‘This way. Hurry!’ Garrick gestured them closer, rushing across the floor with silent steps as he groped clumsily at one of the blocks in the far corner of the room. Finally, he lifted an old iron ring from its groove, prying it up with thin, bony fingers before pulling on it hard. At first, the rock did little more than sigh, and a few flakes of dust crumbled down from the seal, but as Ed and Al leant their strength, the door swung open to reveal a dark, narrow tunnel beyond.

‘A priest bolt,’ Garrick explained, shoving at Ed’s back and urging him in. ‘Go! Go!’

There was no time to argue, and Ed swore as he realised he could not even spare a second to hide the arrays now scrawled on the wall. If it was Danner or his disciples, then they would know someone other than Garrick had been here. He should have obliterated it the moment he had the notes from his dad. Now it was too late.

‘Come on, Ed,’ Roy ordered, reaching out for his wrist and giving it a tug, dragging him into the narrow, black hole in his wake. Al followed, bolting back to scoop the satchel from the floor before sprinting into the waiting darkness. It was up to Havoc to bring up the rear, and Ed heard the lieutenant grunt as he pulled at the door from the inside, helping Garrick to close it off and sealing them in utter darkness.

The walls pressed in at Ed’s shoulders, barely wide enough for a grown man to fit through. The ceiling felt low and brooding above his head, and the utter lack of light only added to the claustrophobic, grave-like quality of the place. Only Roy’s fingers around his wrist kept him anchored and reminded him that he was far from alone.

‘Priest bolts are hidden tunnels leading away from temples,’ Roy whispered, his words barely stirring the air. ‘It’ll take us out into the city, but I don’t dare light a flame to show the way. I don’t know if there’s enough air in here for us and a fire. Hang on to your brother, and follow me.’

Ed did as he was told, reaching back for Al’s hand. Quickly, he relayed Roy’s message, keeping it brief as they began to move. He wanted to shuffle, to reach out with his hands and feel the walls at his side, but one loose stone could be enough to give away their hiding place. Instead he had to walk on blind, with only Roy’s warm presence in front of him to guide the way.

The further from the inner sanctum they got, the more it began to feel like a natural passageway. Stale air became scented with water, and the ground grew slick with a velvety cushion of mossy plants. They stank of wet rot every time Ed put a foot down, and the chill from the rocks crept out into the air, sinking into his bones and making him shudder.

Finally, after what felt like breathless hours of walking, the first whisper of fresh air stirred against Ed’s face. It was little more than a gasp, but Ed craned his head, trying to see anything in the gloom. Was it his imagination, or was there a hint of light up ahead? Something gleamed in front of his nose: the braid on Roy’s uniform, and Ed breathed a sigh of relief as distant city sounds filtered down the passage to him.

‘It looks like it comes out near the old palace,’ Roy said, his voice just loud enough for all of them to hear. ‘We need to get back to the compound. Perhaps the people in the temple were not a threat, but I don’t want to take that risk. Keep your eyes open, and walk as fast as you can without raising suspicion.’

‘And if we see any disciples, sir?’ Havoc asked. He was facing back the way they had come, guarding their retreat, and now he looked over his shoulder with wide blue eyes. ‘Run or fight?’

‘Run. I doubt they’ll be willing to force a confrontation once we’re inside Headquarters. Even if they do have men on the inside, the numbers should work in our favour.’

Roy looked both left and right as they reached the sheltered opening, shielded from view by an outcrop of rocks. Squinting over his shoulder, Ed realised they were in the palace grounds. The command buildings were only a short sprint away, and the gathering dusk meant the crowds thronging in the streets beyond the fence had begun to thin out.

‘Follow me.’

Silently, they did as they were told, slipping through the wrought iron gate that allowed visitors in and out of the gardens. One of the curators tipped his cap to them, whistling happily as he began to jangle his keys. ‘Closing time, everyone. Out you go, now.’

Ed looked over his shoulder, back towards the large square. It was impossible to see the temple from here. It was hidden away in the back streets, obscured by the more modern buildings in front of it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; no one was watching them with anything more than a fleeting interest, yet Ed’s nerves were wound tight and his muscles shook with the urge to fight.

He followed Roy without question, alert and aware of everything around him. In one of the cafés someone dropped a plate, and the clatter-crash of the crockery was enough to make Ed twitch, head swinging around to search for the threat. Every few steps it seemed like he was jumping at shadows, and by the time the command building came in to view, Ed felt as if he had been fighting a running battle all day. His body was fossilised with tension, joints turned to rock by the anxiety that coursed through his blood, but it was not the threat to his own safety that made him feel like this.

No, he was worried about Roy.

_“He activated an array on her chest, and she was gone.”_

So simple: quick and clean. Danner’s previous method of execution was in complete contrast to the bloody slitting of the throat that his later victims had suffered, yet it was no less terrifying. The thought of Roy like that — life wiped out in the blink of an eye — was enough to make Ed crowd closer to Roy’s side, shoulders square and scowling fiercely at anyone who even glanced their way.

‘It won’t happen,’ Roy said as they finally crossed the perimeter of the military compound. His voice was too low for Al or Havoc to hear, but fierce all the same. ‘If Danner gets me, then he gets you, and I’m not going to give him that chance.’

Ed did not ask how Roy knew what he was thinking: it was a shared fear, after all. The urge to growl that he did not need protecting trembled in his throat, but at this point they were nothing but empty words. How could he censure Roy when he felt the same, vicious and feral with the urge to drag Roy away and keep him hidden and safe?

‘If he gets me, then I’ll use one of the arrays Dad put together. I didn’t get a good look at them, but…’ He shrugged, knowing that the transmutation circles really would be a last resort. They would probably kill him and take Danner down at the same time, but that was better than the alternative.

Besides, with Roy gone and Danner about to bring hell down on everyone Ed loved, what would he have left to lose?


	20. Chapter 20

Roy rolled over in his bed, punching his pillow as restless energy jangled along every nerve. Beyond the curtains, a full moon hung in the sky, casting his room in a silver glow. Yet even the relative peace of Eastern Headquarters at night was not soothing him to sleep. Ever since finding Hohenheim's letter, the truth behind _The Saffron Soul_ had hovered above Roy's head like a storm cloud, dark and tumultuous, fogging his thoughts with dread and leaving the thunder of anxiety rolling in his stomach.

He was not the only one affected, either. Dinner had been a wordless affair in the canteen. Both Ed and Al were unusually silent, not even speaking to each other as they grappled with their father's latest revelation. Havoc had been distracted and confused. Alchemy was beyond the lieutenant’s reach, and so the man fell back on what he knew. He had spent the entire meal watching the other soldiers, constantly on guard for threats even within the compound walls.

As for Roy...

Even now, hours after escaping the intruders in the temple and returning to the relative safety of Headquarters, he felt like a hunted man. The invisible sense of threat lingered, thick and cloying, until he could barely breathe without tasting bile. Before they had known the truth, denial had been simple. Despite being in the thick of it, Roy knew some part of him had written Danner off as a madman, nothing more. Yet now that untruth was like mist fading beneath the light of the sun.

Danner's plans were not petty, insane or impossible; they knew that now. He would kill Roy to get to Ed, and then use him as a free ticket to the Gate's power. It could be done. Danner had spent his life studying the possibility. If it had not been for Ed's impetuous rescue back at Edil Park, the priest would already have succeeded.

Rolling onto his back again, Roy dragged the blankets up to his chin, nestling in their folds as his mind continued to turn. The thought of Ed enslaved like that, bound by chains of alchemy to Danner's greed, was enough to clench Roy's heart in a fist of ferocious fury. Something primal and brimming with rage snarled in his head, and the bond around his wrist turned hot, but there was nothing here to fight. Danner remained an invisible danger, and that chafed at Roy's nerves more than anything else.

If Danner showed his cards, then there was a chance he and Ed could retaliate – could get to him before he had his way – but so far they had not even been able to find the bastard. He was too knowing, aware of Ed's strength and instinct to survive, and so Danner was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment of weakness to strike.

And when he did, Roy was not sure he would be able to stop him.

With a miserable groan, Roy closed his eyes, trying to force his brain into silence. Today he had been inundated with information and half-drowned in the flood of answers. He craved the sanctuary of the golden dream-scape he had shared with Ed the night before, but how was he meant to sleep when all he could think about were Hohenheim's fateful words?

Minutes slipped by, measured out by the too-hard-too-fast beat of his heart. At the other end of the bond he could feel Ed's tense, uneasy presence. No doubt Fullmetal was as stressed and far from sleep as Roy, and that only made things worse. Since the temple, Ed had barely said a word. Roy could only glean fragments of emotion from the bond, and none of them were happy or triumphant. He wished he could be sure what was going on in that thick skull, and all of his suspicions only made his stomach churn.

With a quiet curse, Roy threw back the blankets, reaching for his uniform trousers and shirt. He threw them on over bare skin, only doing up half of the shirt buttons as he shoved his sock-less feet into his boots and headed for the door. If neither he nor Ed could sleep then they may as well be awake together. Besides, Roy knew he would feel infinitely better with Ed by his side.

He always did, these days.

Jerking the key in the lock to his suite, he pulled the door open. It was automatic to check the corridor, but midnight had come and gone, and the hallways of Eastern Command were bare. The lights were on, stripping away the shadows with their harsh glow. The clean floor gleamed, and Roy’s boots squeaked on the smooth linoleum, his unfastened laces clicking with every step as he turned the corner towards Ed’s room.

Abruptly, a vicious shudder tore down his skin, and his next breath clouded white as it passed between his lips. The steam lingered like a ghost in front of his face before melting away in the warmth of the corridor. Roy blinked, glancing around himself in confusion before forcing himself to stop and focus.

Even after days of being bound to Ed, he forgot how useful it could be. The alien presence had become normal to him, and now he concentrated on the warm feel of the tether. It might be invisible to others, but to Roy’s eyes it was brighter than anything else. Walls, lights, floor ― they faded in to the background as the line of the bond cleaved through the air. Absently, he ran his bare fingertip down the gleaming line, and a bolt of pleasure shot back and forth, hot and shockingly wanton. What had once been like cobweb silk was now as thick as his little finger. Over the past week it had grown from a frail, stuttering thing into something as strong as steel.

Breakable only by death, that’s what Hohenheim had said.

Shaking the dark thought away, Roy glanced to his left, seeing the door to the room Ed shared with Al and knowing, deep in his soul, that Fullmetal would not be within those walls. Panic tried to crush his heart, catching his next breath in his throat as a tremor of fear ran down his spine, and he looked around, trying to see any sign of a struggle.

If someone had tried to take Ed, it would be written all over the walls. There would be transmutation marks, blood, that kind of thing… Instead the military décor shone back at him, perfectly clean and featureless. He was just about to knock on the door, to wake Al and demand to know where Ed had gone, when something warm wrapped around his wrist and gave a meaningful tug.

If it were not for the fact he was alone, he would have sworn that someone had gripped his arm in their hand. He could feel the hidden strength in their grip and the dip and ridge of four fingers and a thumb. Only the bond stopped it being strange. Besides, he knew Ed’s touch by now: demanding, just like the brat himself.

Wrapping his left hand around the bond, he pulled back, feeling its joyful dance. A phantom of fresh air kissed his face, and the scent of the city’s night briefly filled his nose. He could hear the occasional hum of traffic, oddly distant and distorted, and his boots shifted on sandy grit. Within a heartbeat, the sensory clues faded away, but it did not matter. The certainty of Ed’s whereabouts settled in Roy’s mind like a diamond on a jeweller’s cushion.

Turning towards the stairs, Roy took them two at a time, almost tripping on his trailing bootlaces as he headed for the roof. It was unlikely that Ed was in any danger, but that was not a chance Roy was willing to take. Being alone meant being at risk, and anger warred with concern as Roy finally reached the door to the roof and pushed his way through.

The cold gripped him instantly, slipping icy fingers in the collar of his half-open shirt and raising goose bumps across his skin, but he ignored it as he met Ed’s eyes, eerily amber in the night’s shadows. They were warm with a drowsy kind of curiosity, and Ed raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. ‘I’m fine. Stop freaking out.’

‘You shouldn’t be on your own,’ Roy reminded him, folding his arms before glaring around the empty rooftop. ‘It was only because of the bond that I had any idea you were here.’

Ed huffed a laugh that sounded as tired as Roy felt, almost mirthless and burdened by the weight of too many thoughts. ‘ _I_ told you where to find me. It wasn’t the bond doing it. That just relayed the message.’

Roy paused, frowning in brief confusion as Ed wrapped his automail hand around his own left wrist, covering the array with metal fingertips. Instantly, the same grip covered Roy’s arm, and the strange overlay of sensations repeated itself in an eerie echo of the reality all around him. The chill intensified, and the quiet night sounds doubled in volume. Disoriented, Roy pressed a hand to his head, leaning back on the wall by the door.

Immediately, the feelings faded, and when he opened his eyes it was to find Ed standing next to him. His brow was creased in a worried frown, and one hand was half-lifted as if he had been about to tug on Roy’s sleeve. He pursed his lips for a moment before looking away, fixing his eyes on the rooftop as he murmured, ‘Sorry. Guess it’s stupid to do it when you’re already here.’

Roy reached out, cupping his hand over Ed’s shoulder. He was only wearing his black vest and leather pants, and his normally honey skin was pale in the moon’s anaemic light. ‘Will it work both ways?’ he asked quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a crooked smile as Ed glanced up at him. ‘It’s a useful ability. Even now I keep forgetting to listen to what the bond’s telling me, but since it’s not going away in any hurry maybe I should start putting it to good use.’

‘I don’t see why it shouldn’t.’ Ed shrugged, turning around to lean against the wall at Roy’s side. ‘It jumps like a puppy every time one of us touches it.’ He looked down at his bare left wrist, tipping the skin so that the mark caught the moonlight. The array was smoother than Roy’s, more a tattoo than a wound, and Roy found himself tracing the lines with his gaze before lifting his head to inspect Ed’s profile.

They both looked the worse for wear. Roy was sure that the same shadows smudging under Ed’s eyes rested beneath his own, and the tight lines bracketing Ed’s mouth were making Roy’s jaw tense in sympathy. He looked miserable, slumped low and trying not to shiver at Roy’s side. Not that Roy was much better. The wind kept cutting through his shirt, making him wish he had thought to throw on his jacket, and the frost in the air was starting to add its diamond-white touch to the world.

‘Why don’t you come back inside?’ Roy asked, leaning closer to Ed so that their shoulders were touching. ‘Just because we can’t sleep doesn’t mean we have to freeze to death, as well.’

Ed grunted, waving a hand at the light-strewn cityscape. ‘Kind of thought it would help me think, but…’ He shifted, glowering at the view as his weight settled along Roy’s side a little more. ‘Everything just keeps going around in circles. Danner, Garrick, all this fucking mess.’

‘I know.’ Roy slipped his hands in his pockets, trying to keep warm as he stirred his toe in the grit on the roof. ‘If we could just get rid of Danner and his followers, then we’d at least be safe, but the man’s always one step ahead of us.’ He chewed on his lip, staring blindly out across the city before putting the quiet, whispering thoughts in the back of his mind into words. ‘If it came down to it, I could live with the bond. It’s what Danner might do to you that’s keeping me awake.’

‘You’re the one who’ll end up dead.’ Ed’s voice scraped over the words, his body tense with rejection at the very idea. ‘You act like you don’t think it could happen, but you’ve seen what Danner can do. Don’t even know if I could stop him.’

Roy looked back at him, but Ed did not turn to meet his gaze. Still, Roy could see the bright, cataclysmic light of anger and fear in Ed's eyes. Both of them were stuck in the same cycle, too concerned for the other’s safety to think of the consequences to themselves.

Taking a deep breath, Roy forced himself to turn Ed’s statement over in his mind. As a soldier, death was something he had learned to accept. There were even times in the past when he would have welcomed it: no blame, sin, responsibility… Yet now it would not be a mercy, not when he had so much to protect.

So much to live for.

That thought bloomed across his mind like a flower in the desert, startling against the barren chill of his fears. He did not just want to keep Ed safe, though that was a large part of his current concern. He wanted to share his future. Whether the soul bond remained intact or not, Roy doubted that longing would change. They could never go back to the way things were, watching each other from a distance, and now Roy was certain that he did not want to.

‘We can’t let Danner have his way.’ Roy straightened his shoulders, lifting his head to glare at the moonlit horizon. ‘As soon as we get back to the city, we’ll increase the search. So far we’ve been discreet, trying not to draw attention to the fact we are right in the middle of this mess, but I think I can change that.’

He saw Ed glance his way, one eyebrow raised in question, and a smirk crossed Roy’s lips unbidden as he continued. ‘One thing the inspection here has shown me is that Hakuro’s paranoia is getting worse. The right words in the right place, and we can get all the authorisation we need to start tearing Central apart for the priest.’

The first hint of relief, as light and soft as a feather, caressed its way along the bond, making a harp’s pure note hum along Roy’s nerves. He felt Ed’s shoulders sag as some of the tension eased in his frame, and Roy basked in the brief, warm glow of temporary success. In many ways, he and Ed were surprisingly similar. Neither of them was very good at waiting around for events to take their course. Now, armed with the knowledge of _The Saffron Soul_ , they finally had the opportunity to take matters into their own hands.

‘You think that’ll work?’ Ed asked, shifting his weight before turning his full, piercing attention to Roy. ‘Last thing we want is the fucking military looking too hard at what’s happened to us. I’d rather face Danner than end up in some lab.’

‘If we get it right, then it won’t be us they are concerned about,’ Roy promised, rubbing his hand along his stubbled jaw. ‘The brass are already curious. If we let them know that Danner’s corrupting soldiers to his cause and hint that their own lives might be in danger, then their fear could work in our favour.’

Uncertainty flickered, a brief candle flame in the shadow of Roy’s soul. ‘I’m not saying there isn’t some element of risk, but I know enough about Danner’s motives to start influencing the higher ranks. If I play my cards right, it should be almost entirely within our control.’

Ed nodded, his eyes drooping in a weary blink. Every inch of his expression screamed exhaustion. It was rare that Roy had ever seen him looking so defeated, and he gently nudged Ed’s shoulder before stepping away from the wall. ‘Come on. This can all wait until tomorrow. We need sleep if we’re going to beat Danner.’

He expected an argument. Ed could be stubborn just for the sake of it, but this time there was nothing but cooperation. Ed moved like a puppet, absent of his usual fluid grace. The dull, phantom ache of the automail, a sensation Roy had grown so used to recently, twinged in his flesh arm, and his left knee felt like granite. Living blood might flow through all his limbs, but the bond still fed back the pain of Ed’s cold metal prosthetics, noticeably dead in the chill of the night.

Holding the door open, he watched Ed drag himself down the steps, putting visible effort into not limping. The harsh military lights, left aglow through all hours of darkness, bleached his skin out further, making him look paper-pale as he stepped out into the corridor and looked over his shoulder at Roy.

‘Why don’t you come to my room?’ Roy asked, his stomach thrilling with surprise as the question leapt from his lips. The suggestion was impulsive, but now that the words hovered in the air between them, its logic was undeniable. ‘The fire can warm you up better than the military blankets, and it’s easier for me to sleep when you’re in the same room.’

There was not a word of a lie in his reasoning, but Roy still tensed with nervous anticipation when Ed gave a slow nod, as if he were too tired to even consider the choice. Roy could feel it too ― the hard, heavy burn of sleep in his eyes. Every movement was a little too slow, like walking through treacle, and his fingers were clumsy on the keys by the time he reached the door to his suite. It was as if deciding a course of action, however vague, had lifted the floodgates on sleep’s tides, and the two of them had no choice but to succumb.

As soon as they were inside, Ed made a beeline for the couch, collapsing into the cushions without apology as if he could not stand a moment longer. The sofa let out an elderly wheeze at his weight, but Ed slumped into its threadbare comfort all the same, watching Roy with amber eyes as he stirred the sullen embers in the grate back to life.

At last it began to burn in tones of amber and gold, and Roy staggered upright before heading towards the nearby bed. All he wanted was to sink onto the mattress and sleep, but he forced himself to keep moving, grabbing the pathetic blankets in his grasp before returning to the sofa, settling at Ed’s side and spreading the itchy wool over them both.

Ed hummed in pleasure, his eyes no more than slits as he watched the fire dance. His right arm was a frozen mass where it touched Roy’s left, and Roy found himself unconsciously curling closer, trying to lock heat between them both. He did not even twitch when Ed propped his head on his shoulder, his breath ghosting across the skin at Roy’s shirt collar as he relaxed into Roy’s side.

Sleep consumed them. Roy was not even aware it had happened until he opened his eyes to find the blue summer sky above his head. Golden ears of barley framed the view, but the warmth of the sun seemed distant compared to the heat of the body at his side. They were stretched out once more on the sun-baked earth, cushioned by the aureate crop and surrounded by the scents of summer. A warm wind stirred Roy’s hair, sweeping over his skin and teasing the cotton of his shirt, and he let out a sigh as the last of the tension fled from his body,

‘Didn’t think we’d get back here so easily,’ Ed murmured, and Roy looked down to see that his eyes were open, lazy and content. ‘It’s like getting into a bath or something.’

‘It was here when I closed my eyes.’ Roy smiled, strangely pleased by the realisation. It was as if, having found their way here once, the door had been left open to invite them back in whenever sleep caught them in its embrace. Fear, anxiety, uncertainty ― all of that faded to nothing, stroked away by the heat of the sun and held at bay by the possessive weight of Ed’s arm over his waist.

Either Ed had not noticed how they were resting ― sprawled in the loose clasp of each other’s arms ― or his actions spoke where his voice did not. Was he ignorant to the intimacy of their position, or was he telling Roy without words that, despite his embarrassment in their waking hours, this closeness was what he wanted?

It was hard to believe that Ed could be like this, not just close, but comfortable, lax and trusting with his head over Roy’s heart. Heady happiness swelled beneath Roy’s ribs, filling his stomach with butterflies of light, but he kept his mouth closed and his voice quiet, in case a word from him on the subject was enough to make Ed pull away.

‘Do you think anyone else thought of this?’ Ed asked, curling his hand in Roy’s shirt. ‘A place like this I mean: somewhere to get away from Danner.’

Roy thought of all the others who had come before them, bound and brutalised in the name of Danner’s experiments. He and Ed had created this dream-scape to escape their nightmares, but so many others must have longed to flee reality.

‘I hope so,’ he said at last, tightening his arm around Ed’s shoulders. ‘Danner documented most of the observable behaviours of the bond, but a lot of what it can do is more private than that. Unless those bound told him about it, then he would never know the full capabilities of what it can do.’

Next to him, Ed stretched, his arms stretching above his head as his back arched. The black vest rode up, revealing the toned, sun-kissed line of his stomach, and Roy almost missed his next words over the din of admiration in his head.

‘Guess that’s why he bound disciples. They were more loyal to him than their bond-mates. Probably told him everything.’

Roy dragged his eyes up towards Ed’s face, trying to imagine a bond where someone else took priority over his bond-partner. To his mind, it was unthinkable. Perhaps in the beginning he and Ed had loathed what Danner had done to them, but as the days passed all the jagged edges of distrust between them were smoothed away. Now every thought and action was putting Ed’s happiness and safety before his own. Did that not happen in other bonds? Did the disciple always turn to Danner first, rather than the soul who shared their very existence?

‘Perhaps it was different for them,’ he mused, taking a deep breath of the barley sweet air. ‘Perhaps there’s something about being a Saffron Soul that makes it stronger somehow?’

Ed snorted, his lips twisting with derision, but it was not aimed at Roy. ‘You don’t think all that’s a bit hard to believe? This Saffron Soul shit?’ He turned on his side to face Roy once more, all traces of lethargy fading from his expression as he met Roy’s gaze. ‘It’s easy to make up stories about people in the past ― take one event and make them saints or gods in other people’s eyes. We see it happen all the time.’ His shoulders shifted sharply as the frown creased his brow. ‘You really think there’s a race connected to the Gate? That Dad was one of them? That _I’m_ one of them?’

Roy propped himself up on one elbow, looking closely at Ed’s face as he considered the question. From anyone else, Hohenheim’s claims would have been questionable at best. Yet, when he had read about the people called Saffron Souls, it had simply felt like finding the answer to so many lingering questions. It was not just about Hohenheim; whether it was a myth or a legend, the information seemed liked the perfect explanation for Ed and Al’s unusual brilliance.

Years of study could make a man excel at a single skill, and while Ed and Al had both put in more than their fair share of hours with the books, both of them had a natural, adaptable flair for alchemy. When they were nothing but a short child and a soul in armour, Roy had found himself smothering his jealousy of their abilities. It was as if alchemy ran in their veins, and it was almost gratifying to know that he had been right.

‘Yes, I do believe it.’ He smiled as Ed raised his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth pulled downwards. ‘Think about it. A lot of the legend rings true, not only for you and Al, but it could also lend some answers as to how alchemy arrived in Amestris and spread throughout the world.’

‘Alchemy showed up in Xerces,’ Ed said quietly, and Roy could practically see the thoughts spinning in his head. ‘They’ve found older ruins in Amestris, but there’s no sign of alchemy being used, then in Xerces it’s all over the place.’

‘If they enslaved a race with the knowledge and learned from it as the culture of the Saffron Soul was wiped out, that would make sense.’ Roy sighed, reaching out to catch a tendril of Ed’s hair that was being teased by the breeze. ‘As for you being one, it’s fairly obvious why they earned their name. Saffron is a bright, rich gold, and I know for certain I have never met anyone who looks quite like you.’

Ed reached up, easing the strand from Roy’s fingertips and tucking it behind his ear. ‘There are plenty of blondes in Amestris. Hawkeye, Winry, even Havoc – sort of.’

‘Not exactly the same colouring as you though, are they?’ Roy asked, keeping his other thoughts to himself. There were many shades of blond hair in Amestris, from moon pale to wheat gold, but in a crowded street both Edward and Alphonse still turned heads. People could see there was something different about them, something uncommon, and the reality of Hohenheim’s words sank in a little deeper. If he was right, then the Elrics' relationship to the Saffron Souls was not a distant relic in their past. Thanks to their father’s long-life, they were only one step away.

Half Amestrian, but half something else entirely.

‘I can get that Dad might be different like that,’ Ed said at last. ‘Fuck knows the bastard never told us anything about his past, but people with a connection to the Gate?’ His nose wrinkled, and darker shadows gathered in his eyes. ‘Even if that’s true, it’s not something anyone should want to get back. Why would anyone want to be tied to that thing? Why does Danner think it will do him any good?’

‘Not everyone knows what the Gate is like. A good proportion of the people in the world don’t even know it exists, but those that do and have never seen it think only of the power ― nothing else.’ Roy scratched his cheek, his mind drifting back to the temple in the middle of the city. ‘Besides, in the first panel of the mural I got the impression the Gate was different. It seemed almost ― benevolent?’

His only response was a shrug, and Roy lifted his head as the wind stirred, gusting around them and whipping the barley back and forth. In the distance, the waves seemed to grow louder, and though there was not a cloud in the sky, Roy thought he could smell the threat of rain in the air. The sun lost some of its warmth, and when he looked up to examine the deep blue sky, he saw ghostly shapes ― not nightmares or memories ― but arrays.

He knew nothing about them, but he did not need to. Tied to Ed’s soul by alchemy, he could read the stories of the designs as if they were words on a page, and the only tale they told was one of destruction and death. They were designed to annihilate a threat, to wipe out a few for the sake of the many, and Roy’s heart turned to an aching, creaking stone in his chest.

‘Stop it!’ he demanded, reaching out to rest a hand on Ed’s waist, gripping him through the fabric of his vest. ‘Stop thinking about using those. I won’t let it come to that!’ He ran a palm along Ed’s side, stroking up the warm, strong column of his arm and cupping his hunched shoulder. ‘Please, Ed.’

‘What if you don’t have a choice?’ Ed hissed, his eyes turned firmly away from Roy’s gaze. ‘Danner’s only got to get it right once, and it’s over. Don’t you get that?’

‘Then we don’t give him the chance.’ Roy shut his eyes, knowing that it was never that simple, but if they fell into the trap of believing they had already been defeated, then it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy. ‘We can’t give him the chance.’

Gently, he urged Ed closer. The distance between them was no more than a hand’s length, but Roy craved the press of Ed’s body against his side ― anything to remind him that they were both in this together. He was not about to let Ed shoulder the burden of dealing with Danner: not if he could help it.

His hand moved on its own, rubbing across Ed’s back in smooth, steady strokes as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on the man in his arms. Hard muscles, tense and steely beneath Ed’s skin, gradually began to relax, and the arm wrapped over Roy’s waist seemed to gain some strength, curving possessively in a way that eased the rock sarcophagus of fear from Roy’s heart.

Around them, the wind eased, returning to a playful breeze that whispered among the barley. Thudding waves softened, lapping at the shore, and the sun glowed with renewed energy. A sideways glance at the sky revealed nothing but the innocent, cobalt blue of high summer. The world was tied to them both, but as much as it influenced their mood, it seemed that it could be changed by what they were feeling.

‘Thanks, Roy.’

Ed’s unexpected gratitude was enough to make Roy open his eyes, pulling back a little so that he could look down into Ed’s face. Faint shades of doubt still lingered, but they were ghosts compared to the shadows of a few moments before. Now a warm flush lingered on his cheeks, and he was meeting Roy’s eyes again ― bright, hot gold that seemed to see through skin and bone to the heart of him. They were close enough that every breath mingled, and Roy’s hand moved on its own, skimming up Ed’s neck to Ed’s jaw. His thumb swept back and forth, and something clenched in the pit of his stomach as, rather than pull away, Ed tilted his head, relishing the touch.

A thousand words crowded into Roy’s head as the memory of the erotic dream they had shared flourished. He had promised himself he would talk to Ed about that the next time they were here, but now his voice felt frozen, locked up in his throat. He was so used to always knowing just what to say, but now Roy was struck mute, lost in a breathless moment of possibility where actions could say more than any words.

The barley ceased to sway as the wind fell still, allowing the sunlight to wrap them in its silken heat. The chirrup of the cicadas dimmed to nothing as Roy dipped his head a little closer, allowing Ed one last chance to pull away before he captured those lips softly with his own.

Instantly, it seemed as if every nerve was struck to bright, shimmering life. Prickles of awareness danced across his skin, darting down his chest to gather between his legs. They grew more intense, electrifying him as Ed arched closer, changing the angle and parting his lips to invite Roy inside. With a soft moan, Roy happily obliged, sliding his fingers along Ed’s jaw to rest over the hard throb of his pulse as his other arm cradled Ed’s body.

Their tongues met and tangled, more about passion than grace, and every breath Roy took was filled with Ed’s scent: machine oil, leather and sunshine. He felt intoxicated, drugged by Ed’s closeness and the addictive taste of him. The scrape of his teeth over Ed’s lip drew out a low growl of unguarded pleasure, and Roy felt dizzy with the thrill that this was something Ed wanted in equal, unapologetic measure.

One of Ed’s arms was looped around the back of Roy’s neck, holding him close as they both lost themselves to the kiss. He could feel the tangle of the automail fingers in his shirt, pulling the cotton taut across sensitive nipples. One of Ed’s legs had slipped between his own, hooking around one ankle to lock him in place, and the hard press of Ed’s erection seemed to burn against his thigh.

Roy’s rough hum of pleasure, dark and wanton, was loud in his own ears, and he broke back from the kiss, blinking his eyes open to see his room at military headquarters. Gone were the barley and the deep blue sky. Instead, the dusk of night cloaked his military suite. Only one table lamp and the dying glow of the fire lit the night, and Roy thought a string of curses as he realised that he and Ed had both been dumped cruelly back in reality.

The pair of them were exactly as they had been when they fell asleep, curled into one another’s warmth, with Ed’s head propped on Roy’s shoulder. Yet he could tell from the tense silence and the shallow, uneven breaths that lifted Ed’s chest that he was wide-awake and probably already regretting that dream-time kiss.

His left hand was resting on Roy’s shirt, and Roy watched Ed fiddle briefly with one of the buttons before lifting his head, his jaw firm as he forced himself to meet Roy’s eyes. Even though the kiss had not been real, Ed’s lips still looked swollen from the attention, and his cheeks were pink as he frowned up at Roy, looking as if he were trying to read his mind.

‘Ed, I’m ―’

‘Don’t.’ Ed shook his head in one sharp movement, the hand in Roy’s shirt becoming a fist as he licked his lips. ‘Just, don’t.’

Roy’s breath stuttered Ed leant upwards, catching his mouth in a firm, promising kiss. There was nothing timid or uncertain about his actions. It was as if, now that he had made up his mind, Ed was going to lay his claim, and Roy could only answer in kind, tunnelling his fingers in the tangle of Ed’s hair as pleasure exploded along his nerves. His mind was wiped blank of questions by the swipe of Ed’s tongue inside his mouth, perfectly tempting, and all the while the bond glowed at his wrist, stronger and more vivid than ever before.

Fire flared through his body, re-igniting the embers of desire in the pit of his stomach and sending waves of heat throbbing through him. The blankets had fallen to pool in their laps, yet the cooling air in the room was not the cause of the shivers that trembled over Roy’s skin.

He drew back, sucking in a shuddering breath as Ed’s hands dipped beneath his half open shirt, stroking across his chest and leaving sparking sensations wherever he touched. Instinct might be driving Ed's actions, but Roy could still feel the full focus of his attention, not just stroking him, but learning every inch of his body.

It was impossible not to kiss him again, not to capture the swollen bow of Ed’s lips with his own as his hands flowed down the graceful curve of Ed’s spine to the hem of his vest. Dipping his bare fingertips beneath the black fabric, Roy felt the ripple of taut, strong muscle beneath his hand. It was the only warning he got as Ed pulled back, leaving Roy to smother a whimper of disappointment.

Ed’s burnished eyes narrowed wickedly, his lips hitching in a grin as he caught the vest in his grasp, peeling it away from his chest and allowing it to fall to the floor beside the couch. The simple combination of firelight and Ed’s bare chest and arms, gold and silver and precious, was enough to make the last rational thought vanish from Roy’s mind. His hands ached to touch that body, to explore all Ed’s secrets and cherish them, and he reached forward, trailing one fingertip over the hard, sharp line of Ed’s collar bone.

It was a test, in a way, one last moment of caution, but Ed did not pull away. Instead he tipped his head back, a deep breath lifting his chest as Roy leaned in, scraping his teeth lightly up the column of Ed’s throat and licking at the salty taste of his skin.

Ed’s hands slid around the back of Roy’s neck, stroking across his nape and down to his shoulders with mismatched skin-steel fingers, waking butterflies of light with every touch. He moved down to Roy’s gaping collar, flicking at the cotton wings before dipping his hand beneath Roy’s shirt and exploring the deep vee of fabric. It could have been light and teasing, coy and secretive, but Ed’s unspoken demands were there in the strength of his caress. Every move was bold and confident, and Roy leaned in to the touch as he slid his hands down Ed’s muscular sides, resting them firmly on slim hips as he nuzzled Ed’s jaw.

A purr of pleasure became a growl of annoyance as Ed’s wandering fingers tangled with the buttons of Roy’s half-closed shirt. After a few futile tugs, Roy moved, shifting his hands to rest them on top of Ed’s. ‘Wait,’ he husked, trying to hide a smirk at the blatant disappointment on Ed’s face. ‘I just ―’ He shook his head, trying to drag the unwilling words from the depths of his throat. This was all he wanted. Ed’s touch, Ed’s warmth and desire, but he had to be sure that Ed felt the same way.

‘If we go much further, I really won’t be able to stop. Are you ― are you sure this is what you want?’

Roy braced himself for the answer, wondering if simply by asking the question he would make Ed change his mind about where this was going. Yet the fire-lit air was breathless with want. It hung over them both like a dense, crimson fog, and it was only a matter of a heartbeat before Ed jerked Roy’s shirt open, sending buttons flying into the shadows of the room as he pressed himself closer.

‘You’re what I want.’ Ed lifted his chin, the challenge of that statement burning wild in his eyes. ‘And I know that if others find out about it they’ll probably say the bond did it ― that it fucked with us somehow and made us feel this way ― but it’s got nothing to do with it.’

Roy could feel the thrum of Ed’s heart against his pulse, a mirror image of his own beating in perfect unison. The bond had done that, had brought their existences together and entwined them like rose stems, but even as faint doubt chirruped in his mind, Roy knew Ed was right. This desire had nothing to do with alchemy. It was theirs, and theirs alone.

Ed’s ponytail had come loose, falling in a saffron cascade around his shoulders, and Roy slowly swept it back behind Ed’s ear, grasping the heavy weight and giving it a soft tweak. It was a gentle motion, but Ed responded instantly, tilting his head up and parting his lips to claim Roy’s mouth. Chasteness was the last thing either of them had in mind. Tongue, lips, teeth, taste, and the ever-growing throb of arousal were all Roy could think of. The fierce ache between his legs intensified, and when Ed arched his hips in an artless grind, it took every last scrap of control not to simply take him.

Fire burned along every nerve, consuming everything in heat. The command building could have fallen down around him, and Roy doubted he would heed it. All his being was focussed on Ed: the smoothness of skin, ridges of muscles and the cool, hard kiss of automail beneath the skim of his palms.

Gradually, growing more and more daring, he moved lower, feeling his way down the hard plane of Ed’s stomach. Firm flesh twitched and trembled with Ed’s panting breaths, and Roy finally dipped his fingertip beneath leather and cotton, wriggling in the tight confines to brush against Ed’s steel-hard erection.

‘Ah! Roy!’

Roy’s voice caught on a moan at the sound of his name, needy and shameless as it spilled from Ed’s lips. Dizzy thoughts and desires thrashed together, driven on by the stroke of Ed’s hands across his body. Dichotomous palms slid down his back, moving around to clutch his hips in a strong, determined grasp, as if Ed were afraid Roy was looking for a reason to back away. Yet distance was the absolute last thing on his mind, and the urge to find his way closer still was rapidly banishing all other thought.

Licking his lips, he ran the tip of his nose down the bridge of Ed’s, trying to rein in his passion as he managed to utter one word.  
‘Bed?’

The quiet plea was almost drowned out by the thud of his own need, throbbing through his body in a tribal drum beat that only grew faster as Ed nodded his head, stumbling to his feet and holding out his hand. Roy took it without hesitation, closing the sparse gap in an instant. Even being an arm’s length apart felt like the worst kind of sacrilege, and they staggered towards the bed in each others arms.

Their boots were kicked aside, loose laces making it easy, and the mattress whispered beneath them both as Ed sank back, his hands on Roy’s waist dragging him down on top. Their hips arched together instinctively, driving the conflagration of sensation higher. Only the barrier of their pants was keeping them apart, and in that moment Roy had never hated mere fabric more.

Fumbling hands struggled with belts and zips, working blind as they shared hasty, deep kisses and meaningless murmurs of longing. Roy was not even sure what he was saying any more ― could not comprehend any language but that of skin on skin ― but with Ed beneath him that was all that he needed.

Grasping the waist of Ed’s pants, he peeled them away, carrying leather and cotton down Ed’s legs and off of his feet. Socks went too, and for a second Roy sat back, unable to pass up the opportunity of admiring the man spread out before him. Honey-kissed skin gleamed like gold, striking against the steel silver of Ed’s shoulder and leg. Muscles flexed and trembled as Roy’s gaze slid down Ed’s stomach, finally resting on the hard, flushed jut of Ed’s erection.

His mouth watered, and he pressed his head to Ed’s stomach, nuzzling at the warm flesh below his navel before dipping lower. The swipe of his tongue from base to tip drew a long, low groan from Ed’s throat, and Roy fought to stay in control as he filled his mouth with Ed’s intimate taste.

As soon as his lips closed fully around the head of Ed’s erection, Roy felt the bond on his wrist spark, and a phantom sensation suffused his own crotch: shifting warmth and pressure, slight, but perceptible. It was just enough to tease him closer to the brink ― to push the limits of his control, and he released Ed with a wet sound as Ed’s fingers in his hair tugged him upwards for another hungry kiss.

‘You’re over-dressed, Mustang,’ he rasped, watching Roy with eyes that were almost all pupil, dark pools surrounded by a band of impossible gold. ‘If you don’t fucking hurry up I’ll rip them off.’

A smirk bloomed across Roy’s lips as he took in the petulant tilt of Ed’s lips, and he obligingly dropped his hands to his pants. ‘Another time, perhaps,’ he promised, thrilling with gratification as Ed’s gaze trailed down his body, watching hungrily. ‘Unfortunately, this is the only uniform I brought with me, and leaving tomorrow without my trousers might be hard to explain.’

Slowly, Roy stripped them off, the watch in his pocket thunking on the floor as he dropped them over the side of the bed. However, the sound was nothing but a faint noise on the edge of his hearing, lost entirely as Ed’s fingers closed around his hard, throbbing length.

Pleasure exploded upwards through his body, carving out broad lines of light through his veins as Ed stroked back and forth, teasing sensitive nerve endings. Their jagged, uneven breathing matched perfectly, hitching with every new caress. Now it was not just the most intimate of touches that flickered back along the bond, but every kiss, taste and stroke had a ghostly counterpart. Roy knew he was not the only one feeling it ― could tell from Ed’s increasingly needy moans and gasped curses that they were both rapidly losing all control ― and he gripped Ed’s shoulders, guiding him back to lie on the pillows before fumbling at the bedside table drawer for lube.

For one brief moment, fear struck, but Roy had learned years ago to always be prepared, and his fingers soon closed around the slim tube he kept with him when he travelled. The cap clicked off, and cool gel tingled on his fingertips ― a point of punctuation in his litany of desire.

Ed showed no sign of uncertainty or hesitation. His hands were already stretched out for Roy again, grasping his biceps with almost bruising force as Roy slid his fingers down, back and pressed ever-so-carefully in.

Breathlessly, he waited, letting Ed adjust to the presence, watching his expression for any hint of pain. Yet ecstasy was the only thing that wrote itself across Ed’s expressive features. He was biting his lips, head arched back and eyes shut as he shifted his hips, pressing down on Roy’s finger in the quest for more. His chest fluttered with shallow pants, and that golden skin was slicked with the first gleam of lust’s sweat.

Dipping his head, Roy licked at Ed’s chest, nuzzling and pressing kisses to every inch of skin he could reach as a second finger steadily joined the first, delving into Ed’s scorching heat and sending fireworks of excitement ricocheting through them both.

‘Now,’ Ed hissed, bucking beneath Roy’s touch. ‘Fuck, Roy, fucking now!’

His voice was almost a whine, shredded to nothing by desire, and Roy was only too happy to oblige, capturing Ed’s lips in a long, deep kiss as he withdrew his fingers and slicked his own length before carefully lining himself up.

Passion stormed through him, already so close to breaking point that he shook with the effort of restraint. His hips longed to snap forward, to plunge and dive in search of completion, but just because Ed had lain with other lovers did not mean Roy could throw caution to the wind.

Gritting his teeth, he entered Ed in a smooth, decisive stroke, holding himself motionless as Ed arched his back, muscles clasping around Roy’s length as he adjusted to the intrusion. Brief, almost-pain echoed back along the bond, but it vanished immediately, enveloped by the storm of need in Roy’s gut. Thought was wiped away, drowned out by the tempest of sensation that roared along every nerve and covered his skin in slick sweat as he began to move.

Ed urged him closer, chest-to-chest as if the awkward angle was the easiest thing in the world. His palms scrabbled for purchase on Roy’s shoulders as they moved together, sharp and jerky, graceless with desire and lost within its velvet folds. Ed’s legs were twined around Roy’s hips, holding him close and urging him deeper as tight, inarticulate sounds of encouragement slipped past his lips.

Dropping his head to the crook of Ed’s neck, Roy tried to find some element of control, but there was none to be had. Pleasure’s claws were clutched tight in the pit of his stomach, and every twitch and buck of Ed’s body, bow-string tight with mounting passion, only made the fire spark upwards, fountaining through him in a torrid rush that snatched his breath away, reducing him to nothing but a creature of sensation.

Biting his lip, he slid his hands down Ed’s side, clutching at his hips as he thrust in deep, releasing a choked cry of ecstasy from Ed’s throat. Smooth muscle tightened around Roy’s pulsing hardness, dragging him over the edge as Ed’s climax surged between them, hot and sticky against Roy’s skin.

Release swarmed through Roy’s body, burning silhouettes of rapture in the white-out of his mind. It was as if the world, with its vast horizons, had been reduced to this: the quick, clean cut of absolute ecstasy. Muscles turned lax, buzzing with heat, and he allowed his weight to rest on Ed’s chest. Anyone else he would have feared crushing, but even now, glowing with satiation, Ed’s strength was like a foundation stone, sure and solid beneath him.

Aftershocks continued to ripple through them like vibrations along strummed harp strings. If it were not for the discomfort, Roy could have stayed there forever, linked with Ed in the most intimate of ways. However, sore muscles were beginning to make themselves heard through the haze of release, and he doubted that Ed could be comfortable.

Roy let out a shuddering breath in Ed’s ear, stroking his hands back up Ed’s side and easing out of him. A flicker of discomfort shot across Ed’s face, and Roy murmured a plaintive apology, brushing a kiss against the tip of Ed’s nose as he shifted away.

‘Sorry’s not what you should be saying,’ Ed mumbled, butting his head into Roy’s shoulder as Roy lay down at his side. ‘Believe me, that was nothing to apologise for.’

Roy smirked, curving his arm across Ed’s chest and revelling in the warmth and life of the body next to him, cradled perfectly in the curve of his arms. The air whispered with the gradual decline of their breathing as ragged gasps smoothed out and slowed down. Roy could feel the patter of Ed’s heart beginning to return to its normal pace, and he nuzzled Ed’s hairline as he pressed a light kiss to that golden brow, smiling as Ed hummed in hedonistic satisfaction.

They were covered in sweat and worse, tangled up in passion-wrecked sheets, but as Roy closed his eyes only one word filled his mind.

Bliss.


	21. Chapter 21

The blush of dawn slipped softly through the window, casting a pink glow across Ed’s face and pushing back the dark absolute of sleep. He wrinkled his nose at the intrusion, turning his head and nuzzling into the pillow, but it was too late: morning had found him.

Cracking open one eye, he took in the man crashed out at his side. One of Roy’s arms was a heavy weight over his waist, and for the moment at least, the dark fan of Roy’s lashes was still closed to the world. It would not be long before he roused, pulled from slumber by Ed’s own wakefulness, and Ed quickly allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

Every muscle was lax, filled with the happy hum of sated desire, and for once there was no phantom of guilt to rear its ugly head. Sometimes it felt as if he had wanted Roy from the moment he figured out that sex was more than just a word, and now he had finally got what he wanted. Yet it was not just some fling, at least not as far as he was concerned.

The question was, did Roy feel the same way, or would he open his eyes and regret what they had done?

Biting his lip, Ed shifted, dropping his gaze from Roy’s face to stare at the white expanse of the sheet. Roy had seemed earnest enough, keen and cautious all at once, as if Ed was something worth cherishing, but Ed had seen too many of Mustang’s masks over the years. Even with the bond, there was so much that he did not know about the git, and he was not about to take anything for granted. Last night had been all about actions, and the memories alone were enough to spark desire anew in the pit of Ed’s stomach, but now, as much as he hated the idea, he and Roy needed to rely on words.

Next to him, Roy stirred, giving a rough, sleepy hum as his arm tightened over Ed’s body. He rubbed his nose at Ed’s temple, pressing a kiss there, and Ed’s heart beat a little faster as Roy murmured, ‘Morning.’

He made it sound like an invitation back to bed, as if the day could wait and time could stop for them, and when Ed looked up into Roy’s eyes they were utterly unveiled. There was no distance in Roy’s expression, nor any sign of regret, and some of the uncertainty that clutched at Ed’s heart began to ease.

‘Mornin’.’ Ed ducked his head, trying to ignore the flush that spread through his face, ignited by the wakening, hungry gleam in Roy’s gaze. Words tripped each other up on his tongue, getting tangled and confused until they sat like a boulder lodged in his throat. Something must have shown on his face, because Roy propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Ed with a faint frown on his brow.

‘Are you all right?’

Something in his voice made Ed jerk his head up. He had heard many things behind Roy’s words before, but never that strange, flat note of uncertainty. The need to reassure him clutched at Ed’s chest, making it hard to breathe as he nodded his head.

‘Better than all right,’ he replied with a flicker of a grin, reaching out to rest flesh fingertips on the broad, firm wall of Roy’s chest. ‘It’s just I — was last night…?’ The question died incomplete, but it did not matter. Comprehension’s glow lit Roy's face, and he pursed his lips, drawing Ed’s eyes down to the soft pink flesh still swollen from the kisses they had shared.

‘I don’t want it to be just “last night”,’ Roy said at last, lying back down so that he and Ed were face to face. Their noses almost touched, and he could feel the heat of Roy’s body mingled with the silken calescence of the bond. ‘I don’t — I don’t think we can go back to the way things were, even if we wanted to, and I have no desire to try and retreat from this.’

Something shifted in Ed’s chest, slipping away as relief coursed through him. He had not realised that he was caught in fear’s insidious grasp, but now a shaky breath stuttered from his lungs, and the grin on his lips felt more honest this time. ‘Neither do I. I don’t care what people are going to say, but if it was something you didn’t want—’

Roy’s kiss stopped him, wiping away his lingering doubts with the light pressure of lips and the gentle, teasing swipe of tongue. Strong hands curved around Ed’s back, cradling him close as he surrendered. His eyes flickered closed as his legs twined between Roy’s, cinching their naked bodies closer together. The kiss was slower this time, shorn of last night’s desperate edge, but desire’s glowing embers sparked to life in seconds, arching Ed’s spine and pooling heat between his legs.

Deft fingers tunneled into Ed’s tangled hair, stroking, not pulling as Roy’s palm cupped his head, one thumb brushing at his temple. Hard, hot flesh pressed against Ed’s stomach, and he slipped his hand down, reveling in Roy’s low, soft moan as he touched the sensitive head. This was easier than words, simple and complex all at once, and all the while the bond was singing around them, humming with high, glassy notes of joy that only they could hear.

The blare of a trumpet outside ripped them from their bliss, and Ed threw a furious scowl at the window. The outside world was calling, and he wanted nothing more than to ignore it: Danner, the bond, all that shit. Could it not wait, just for one day?

Next to him, Roy sighed, his shoulders slumping noticeably as he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I’ve never been more tempted to tell Havoc we can catch a later train, but…’

‘But we need to get back to Central before the chief of police,’ Ed finished for him, already knowing that time to nurture the fragile change in their relationship was an impossible demand. ‘I know. Besides, the fucking place has probably fallen apart while we’ve been gone.’

Roy grimaced, but it was a fleeting display of concern before something calmer and more focused settled across his features. ‘Whatever’s happened, we’ll deal with it, and it won’t change this.’ He wrapped his fingers around Ed’s left wrist, sending shockwaves along the tether that linked them. ‘I’m not going to get back there and decide being together is a bad idea.’

Ed was not sure who Roy was trying to convince on that score, but he kept his faint uncertainty to himself as another alarm called the soldiers from their bunks. He wanted to believe Roy entirely, to put all his faith on the line and simply trust, but Eastern headquarters were peaceful shallows compared to the shark-infested political waters of Central.

‘If the brass find out we had sex, what’ll happen?’ he asked, lifting his chin as Roy shook his head. ‘You can’t deny it might happen, Mustang. No one’s going to take kindly to you fucking a subordinate, least of all one who’s male.’

‘Who I sleep with is my concern, not theirs.’ Roy sighed, and Ed almost apologised for causing the tension he could see beginning to creep its way into Roy’s body, tensing muscles and casting aside the last comfortable veils of intimacy. ‘Technically, there’s nothing they can do about me taking a man as a lover. It’s the fact that you’re my subordinate that could cause trouble.’

Ed stretched, his hands clenching into fists above his head before he peeled back the sheets and got to his feet. ‘I’m going to use your shower while you explain what you mean by “trouble”.’

He could feel Roy’s gaze on his back, and when he paused at the threshold of the bathroom to glance back over his shoulder, he saw the blatant appreciation on Roy’s face. One dark eyebrow was raised, and the heat in those eyes was enough to make Ed blush all the way down to his toes. Roy was looking at him as if he were a five course meal after days of starvation, and it took all of Ed’s will not to simply clamber back into bed again.

‘“Trouble”, Roy.’ Ed reminded him, clearing his throat to remove the hoarseness from his voice as he turned away.

White tiles gleamed as Ed turned on the light switch. There were towels and the normal stuff that littered bathrooms the world over, including Roy’s shampoo and soap balanced neatly on the side of the tub. Warm water fountained from the showerhead as Ed turned on the taps, almost drowning out Roy’s first words of explanation.

‘They’d at least move you to a different command. I could be reprimanded for creating a conflict of interest and breaking the rules. Demoted, perhaps.’

‘Not kicked out?’ Ed asked as he stepped under the spray, tipping his head back in appreciation as his hair was slicked to his head and the sticky musk of the previous night was rinsed away from his skin. He never heard Roy’s bare feet padding across the bathroom floor, and it was only when a strong arm circled his waist that he opened his eyes and looked up in to Roy’s face.

‘If they threw me out, they would be doing the same thing to most of the brass,’ Roy replied, nudging Ed back a little so they were both sharing the shower’s cascade. ‘I doubt there’s anyone in the military who's not at least thought of breaking the no fraternisation rule. We just need to be discreet, at least until you’ve left the military.’

Ed was having difficulty concentrating on Roy’s words. Normally he would have defended his personal shower space until the bitter end, but there was something flourishing inside him: an odd, uncertain need to keep Roy as close as possible. Where he would have growled and snarled in annoyance, even with a close lover, he found himself lost in admiration.

Roy naked was one thing, but now water made that pale skin gleam, and Ed found his hands moving on their own accord, feeling the slick skim of soap bubbles and warm flesh beneath his palms. Being allowed to touch him was still so new, the contours of his body mostly uncharted, and Roy’s murmur of appreciation seemed loud in the shower as he swayed closer, leaning in to Ed’s caress.

‘Discreet, right. I think I can manage that,’ Ed breathed, stretching up on his toes to nip at Roy’s bottom lip before carefully pushing him out from under the shower's spray. ‘But if you want to get back to Central today, then we need to actually wash, and I can’t do that if you’re standing right there.’ He shrugged as Roy raised an eyebrow, and a grin flirted over Ed’s lips as he explained, ‘You’re distracting me.’

The smirk on Roy’s face was unmistakable, and Ed rolled his eyes as he leaned around Roy and reached for the shampoo, squirting a bit in to his palm before lathering the tangled wreck of his hair. Steam curled around him, carrying the scent of spice, and Ed barely even grumbled a warning when Roy’s hands brushed his aside, stirring the suds into a thick, creamy lather.

It was almost too personal, despite the fact that Roy had been on him — _in_ him — this went beyond simple sex and in to the realm of something far more intimate. Part of Ed, animal wary still, wanted to snarl and back away, to not let himself get that close to anyone, but the urge was drowned out by the simple, clean happiness inspired by Roy’s attention.

‘I can wash my own hair,’ he muttered. ‘I’m not a kid.’

‘Obviously,’ Roy replied, guiding Ed’s head back under the spray. ‘Does it bother you, me doing this?’

Ed shut his eyes, feeling the suds slip away as Roy combed his fingers through tresses. If he was honest with himself, it was only his pride which snarled its irritation, and he knew that was a knee-jerk reaction to another person trying to take care of him. ‘It’s not too bad,’ he replied at last. ‘Guess I could get used to it.’

He opened one eye to see Roy smiling at the thin mask of Ed's indifference. No doubt he could see right through it — could pick up Ed’s uneasy pleasure as simply as reading the words from a page — with or without the bond.

‘Are you normally like this?’ The question slipped from Ed’s tongue before he had a chance to think about it, and he winced as Roy hesitated. Yet it was too late to call it back now, and he shrugged his shoulders, opening both eyes as he clarified. ‘With others, I mean?’

For a minute he thought Roy would not answer. After all, both of them had past relationships, and they were better left alone, but Ed’s curiosity was more academic than emotional. He had never felt this at ease with anyone the morning after their first time together. Normally, there was glassy uncertainty and a fragile delicacy, as if sex was a ceasefire that could break at any moment.

With Roy, things were different. Years of history and knowledge lay between them — antagonism and slowly-blooming trust — and then there was the added ingredient of the bond. Perhaps Roy was confident enough to naturally slip towards the intimate sanctuary of a strong relationship almost straight away, but Ed had his doubts about that.

‘No.’ Roy turned away a little, grabbing the bottle of shampoo and lathering his own hair before nudging Ed aside. Gone were the slow, tender movements and gentle words, and part of Ed squeezed at that loss, but he shook it aside, reaching up to cuff at some suds before they could slip in to Roy’s eyes.

‘Me neither. I’m just — I know I said last night that none of it was the bond, but I can’t pretend it’s not there. It makes things different.’ His cheeks heated as he remembered the echoing sensations during sex, teasing nerves and shooting him towards release with every passing second. ‘It makes _sex_ different. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it.’

Roy’s shoulders relaxed as he caught on to Ed’s train of thought, and the tension that had abruptly filled the shower felt as if it were swirling down the drain. ‘You think the bond’s making this easier?’

Ed shrugged, wringing out his hair before stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel. ‘Seems that way. I thought this would be more awkward, for a start. Instead it feels like we’ve done this every morning for years.’ He wrapped the fluffy white cotton around his waist before reaching for a comb and setting to work at the tangled knots of his hair.

The drum of the shower ceased as Roy turned off the taps, and Ed watched his murky reflection in the foggy mirror as he grabbed a towel and approached Ed’s side. Stretching out a hand, Roy swiped at the condensation, revealing the water-streaked pane beneath. Ed was not sure what he expected to see in their image, but they looked the same as always, light and dark, with the gold link of the bond blazing between them.

‘I know what you mean. I’m not normally this — comfortable — so early in a relationship.’ Roy filled the sink with water, grabbing shaving foam and a razor, and Ed watched as he began removing the dark shadow of stubble from his jaw. It was only when he finished that he spoke again, wiping foam from his face as he did so. ‘The bond feels like it's changed: It’s stronger than it was yesterday.’

‘It wasn’t exactly weak then,’ Ed pointed out, putting the comb down and concentrating on the noose of the tether around his wrist. Now that Roy mentioned it, he knew what he meant. It had always felt a little like a manacle, something that cuffed them together, but now it felt more integral and organic than that, as if it had grown between them, rather than being forged. ‘Garrick said that emotion seemed to affect it. You think this is what he meant?’

Roy shrugged, shaking his head. ‘I have no idea. In some ways it feels like it’s been trying to draw us closer all the time, as if it’s seeking out some optimum state, but there’s no indication that the same thing happened with any of Danner’s experiments.’

‘Maybe that’s because there was nothing for it to work with.’ Ed gave a crooked smile, wishing he could push aside the faint phantom of embarrassment that still lingered beneath his skin. ‘The others were bound to strangers — disciples. We’ve known each other for years…’

Roy turned to face him, nodding his head. ‘It simply worked with what was already there.’ He swept his thumb tantalisingly along Ed’s bottom lip, his pupils flaring when Ed scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin. ‘With any luck, maybe that will make it more difficult for Danner to break.’

‘It didn’t stop him killing Garrick’s wife.'

As soon as Ed uttered the words, hurt flashed along the bond, lightning sharp. He heard Roy’s involuntary indrawn breath at the same time as he gasped in the steamy bathroom air. At his wrist, the bond burned, and he could feel the mass of power that it now contained. It was just a glimpse — a brief sense of tumultuous power, before it was gone, and Ed blinked in confusion as he pressed a hand to his head.

‘What the fuck was that?’

‘I don’t think it appreciated the thought of Danner breaking us apart.’ Roy’s right arm was braced against the sink, supporting his weight. Dark eyes watched Ed from a pallid face, and Ed could see the pulse at the base of his throat jumping as if he had run a marathon.

‘You make it sound like it’s a conscious thing,’ Ed hissed, his stomach writhing as shivers raced over his skin. ‘Like it’s got a mind of its own. Alchemy isn’t alive, Roy!’

Warm fingers curved around his wrist, urging his hands away from where they were pressed to his forehead so that he had no choice but to meet Roy’s gaze. His touch was soft and reassuring — soothing in a way Ed never thought possible — and he felt taut muscles slowly melt as Roy moved into his personal space, stroking a hand down Ed’s bare back.

‘It’s not alive, but we are. Neither of us want the bond to be broken, especially by Danner.’ Roy shrugged, closing his eyes for a moment as he struggled to explain. ‘It makes sense that the bond grows more concrete the closer two souls become, and it seems to me it’s acting like a mirror or lens.’

‘Reflecting and magnifying.’ Ed raised an eyebrow as comprehension seeped through his mind. ‘It’s echoing back what we’re feeling.’ He pursed his lips, leaving his other thoughts unsaid. What he had felt from the link between him and Roy had been more visceral than before, fear and anger distilled to something pure. Protective fury was harsh and utterly unmerciful, and sensing that made him realise one thing.

Danner did not stand a chance. Even if the fucker broke the bond, he would never break Ed to get what he wanted.

The ruthless thought shone in his mind like a beacon in the darkest night, and Ed allowed himself a whisper of a smile as he leaned in to Roy’s warmth, sharing one brief moment of contact before stepping away. He turned his hands around, taking Roy’s fingers in his grasp for one last squeeze. ‘At least we know whatever the bond is doing to us, it’s on our side.

Roy nodded, a firm, decisive gesture shorn of any doubt. ‘I thought it might be worth looking at Danner’s notes again. If the previous bonds never went this far or got this strong, then at least we might have the element of surprise.’

‘Got to get back to Central, first,’ Ed pointed out, casting a distrustful, sidelong glance at the bathroom door. ‘That means we actually have to leave this room.’

Roy sighed, and Ed could feel the distaste of that idea coming off him in waves. In here, within Roy’s suite, it was sheltered and safe, and this relationship felt like something they would have. Out there, the real world would bear down on them, and the very thought was enough to make Ed want to drag Roy back to bed and stay there for good.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Ed’s words were cut short by the synchronised growls of their stomachs. Hunger was a simultaneous need, and Ed grimaced, putting a hand against his belly as Roy smothered a laugh.

‘Go get dressed,’ Ed ordered, giving Roy a feeble shove towards to door. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’

He watched Roy hesitate, his body held rigid as if the thought of leaving the room repulsed him. Ed knew the feeling. A keening sensation, more physical than emotional, washed through him at the idea of even a fraction of distance between them. However, they were grown men, not lovesick teenagers. Life went on, regardless of how much they wanted time to stop beyond the walls of these rooms.

At last, Roy nodded, opening the door and giving Ed a final quick glance before closing him in with the humid air. The sense of loss intensified, star bright, and Ed scrubbed his hands over his eyes, forcing himself not to march out after Roy and press against that warm skin. The need to be in Roy’s embrace was overwhelming, trembling along every nerve and shaking every muscle, far stronger than anything he had experienced with other lovers. Then, staying in bed all day had been a pleasant distraction. Now the idea felt more like a necessity.

With a faint growl of irritation, Ed clenched his hands into fists, doing his best to push the feeling aside as he turned back towards the sink and grabbing Roy’s razor. Whatever the bond had done to him when he and Roy were first joined made shaving a daily chore. Before, he had been able to get away with it, but now the dense stubble on his jaw made him think of his father, and Ed was only too happy to remove all trace of that association.

Gradually, the small distance to Roy became easier to bear, and Ed' mind drifted as he worked, wandering back over the details of the past day. He had known, deep in his gut, that Hohenheim was up to his neck in this _Saffron Soul_ shit, but all this time he had thought it was referring to a scripture or belief. Not a race. His first instinct was to deny it, but Roy had made a good point last night. When he stopped to think about it, his father’s words made an undeniable kind of sense. Ed had always known there was a puzzle piece missing in the murky history of alchemy, but it had never crossed his mind that he and Al could be it.

The desperation of his father’s message still sat like a shroud over Ed’s heart, choking with its touch. Hohenheim had believed secrecy was the best defence, but even before his children were born he had been compelled to write something — some warning of the last dire consequences — only to be found if a bond had already been activated. There were so many ways it could have gone wrong. Danner could have bound Ed or Al from the start, or they might never have found what they were looking for… It all seemed so frantic, and it was hard to imagine his father as anything but determined.

With a sigh, Ed met the gaze of his reflection, rinsing the last of the foam from his face before reaching his hands up towards his hair. A quick clap and alchemy rushed forward like a tide, banishing the lingering moisture from golden strands as the bond caught the light, burning like a shooting star through the damp air.

Ed watched the gleaming tether, smiling despite himself at the clear, keen line it cut through the wall to where Roy must be standing, only a room away. It was a small consolation, but at least Danner had never planned for this. Al’s soul was useless to him because of the armour that had encased it for so long. It lingered in his blood, shielding him from Danner’s attempts even now. Ed was his only other option, and Roy stood firmly in the way of that.

For now, at least.

Something warm raced up his arm, spreading through him like syrup and banishing the blooming chills of uncertainty and fear. There was still a lot they did not understand about the way the bond worked, but Ed knew he was right about one thing: what he and Roy shared last night had only made it stronger and brought the two of them closer together. For all they knew, even if Danner could break it, something might still linger, making any other bond impossible.

It was a faint, sad hope, and Ed clenched his jaw as he turned towards the door. He was not about to rely on something like that. Life never did play fair, and it never gave him anything for free. As soon as he got back to Central, he was going to get to work. He would leave Roy to do what he did best — manipulate — and Ed would focus on the alchemy. Perhaps somewhere amidst Danner’s notes and his father’s devastating arrays there would be something he could use.

Stepping out into the main room, Ed raised an eyebrow, doing his best to smother a smile. Roy was mostly dressed, but not all of his uniform had survived Ed’s attentions. The top four buttons of his shirt were unharmed, since they had not blocked his progress the previous night, but the bottom three were missing. Only frail, miserable threads marked where they had been, and the cotton kept shifting, revealing tantalising glimpses of Roy’s toned stomach.

‘This is my only shirt,’ Roy pointed out, no doubt catching sight of Ed’s smirk. ‘I’m going to be spending most of the day on a hot train, and there is no way I’m keeping my jacket on to hide your handiwork, Ed.’

He smiled, stepping closer and pinching the two edges of fabric between his thumb and forefinger. Ed could feel the heat emanating from Roy's body, as well as the scent of spice that surrounded them both. Even with his clothes on, Roy was intoxicating, and his voice went rough as he murmured, ‘I could just rip the rest of them off. Then they’d match.’

The kiss Roy pressed to his forehead was curved into a smile, and Ed gave a wistful sigh before touching his fingertips together and carefully weaving the cotton closed. It was a simple enough transmutation, and enough to make the shirt hold up until they got back to Central, but Ed still thought it was shameful to hide even an inch more of Roy’s skin than necessary.

‘Thank you.’ Roy ducked his head, capturing Ed’s lips in a lingering kiss that made fire flare through every part of him. It was far too easy for Roy to obliterate every logical thought in Ed’s mind, and only another growl from his stomach reminded him that there was any need beyond that for Roy’s touch.

Reluctantly, Ed stepped back, sucking in a deep breath before managing to get out any words. ‘We need breakfast, or we’re going to miss this fucking train.’ He ducked his head, turning back towards the bed and walking over to the slick of black cloth and leather that were his clothes. It was hard not to look upon the mattress and those tousled sheets and not yearn to climb back into their embrace, but Ed steeled himself as he reached for his underwear.

The towel fell in a heap around his ankles as he reached for his pants, grinning at Roy’s tight sound of appreciation. ‘This isn’t a free show, Mustang,’ he growled, glancing back as he pulled cotton and slick leather up around his waist. There would be time for clean boxers later. He still had to get back to his room to pack, anyway.

‘I’d pay a fortune to see this everyday.’ Roy’s dark eyes were almost black, and he was leaning against the wall by the door, his jacket loose in his fingertips as he watched Ed move. The feral gleam in that gaze was enough to stir the heat in Ed’s blood. He had never appreciated a lover eying him up before. The urge to turn away and hide the imperfections of his body — automail and scars — always lingered, but there was none of that with Roy. He never flinched from the cool metal of Ed’s arm, and scars had received their fair share of loving attention.

Ed grunted as he tugged on his vest before grabbing his hair-band from under the bed and catching his hair up in its typical ponytail. He shoved his feet into his boots, leaving the laces trailing as he turned back to Roy. ‘If we don’t hurry up and find Al and Havoc, they’re going to come looking for us,’ he pointed out, watching desire ebb away as Roy flinched.

‘You’re right. I’d really like to avoid any awkward conversations with Alphonse this early in the morning.’

There was an honest measure of dread in Roy’s voice, and Ed raised an eyebrow. ‘Al’s not going to say anything. He’ll just give you a look. It’s Havoc you should worry about. Unless you specifically tell him to keep his mouth shut, everyone in Central headquarters will know before we even make it back to the city.’

‘He’s not quite that bad.’ Roy’s brow folded in a perplexed frown. ‘They’re going to find out eventually, though. Keeping this from the brass is one thing, but my command?’ He sighed, shaking his head. ‘Hughes will probably know the moment we walk into the office back at Central. Hawkeye too. They haven’t worked with me for so long without becoming observant.’

Something twisted in Ed’s stomach, and the next words felt like stone in his throat. ‘You think they might be against it?’

‘I don’t care if they are, but I doubt it.’ Roy smiled, reaching out to touch Ed’s cheek before pulling his hand back. ‘If people become aware that we are having a relationship, then we have to make sure they can see it does not affect us professionally. That alone will knock the legs out from most of the military’s complaints.’ He glanced towards the door, still closed and sealing off the rest of the world. ‘Out there, we have to act as if nothing has changed. I don’t think my men will be anything but happy for us, but it’s probably still better to keep the people who know to a minimum.’

Ed nodded, knowing that made the plainest kind of sense. As much as he hated it, secrecy was essential. If nothing else, they had to make sure what they had was strong enough to weather the inevitable storms. ‘Al will know. Same as Hughes. I won’t even have to tell him.’

Roy nodded, and Ed could practically feel the understanding flowing back along the bond. Despite all their caution, there was probably no way to hide their relationship from those that knew them best. Ed felt bright with it, glowing from within like a core of red-hot iron. It made him feel stronger and more certain of the way forward, and that was the kind of thing Al would pick up on in a second.

‘Are you ready?’ Roy asked, reaching out for the door handle and easing the door open when Ed gave one firm nod. He casually checked the corridor before gesturing Ed out. There was no one there to see them, but Ed still folded his arms, fixing his face in a stubborn glare as if he had been dragged away from breakfast at the demands of his superior officer.

Roy was, of course, immaculate. He looked every inch the general, and the warm smile was quickly replaced with the professional mask to which Ed was accustomed. It should have been shocking, really, the way Roy could flick the switch, but it was a necessary subterfuge. Besides, the bond reminded him of the tenderness Roy could not let slip into his expression, feeding warmth into his veins and soothing away the first sharp thorns of uncertainty that tried to flourish around his heart.

‘What time’s the train? Hawkeye’ll be fucking pissed if we miss it.’

Roy pulled his pocket watch loose in one graceful movement, opening the case and glancing at the face before slipping it home once more. ‘We’ve got just over an hour. Breakfast will have to be quick, Fullmetal. No second helpings.’

‘Better be a buffet car on the way back.’ Ed fell in at Roy’s side. It should have been impossible to saunter and keep up with Roy’s more precise march, but he’d had years of practice. Like his refusal to wear a uniform, the marching thing was important. It was a reminder to himself and everyone else that he was never going to toe the military’s line.

As they approached the canteen, the noise of soldiers talking rose to almost overwhelming levels. Caffeine and carbohydrates began to work their wonders on the Eastern military, launching them into the day ahead, and Ed inhaled the smell of fried breakfast and coffee appreciatively. He had already turned towards the serving hatch when Roy tapped his elbow, pointing through the thronging crowds to where Havoc and Al were waiting. Their breakfast already sat there, still steaming, but from the look on Havoc’s face they were only seconds away from the lieutenant coming to track them down.

‘With all due respect, sir,’ Havoc said as they approached, ‘if we miss this damn train Hawkeye will shoot the lot of us.’

‘I’ll eat quickly, lieutenant,’ Roy promised, sitting down with more decorum than Ed, who simply tucked straight in to his meal.

His growling stomach quieted, and within five minutes, the plate was clear of everything but a few crumbs. The coffee was too hot to gulp, but he did his best, studiously ignoring the weight of Al’s knowing gaze and the occasional amused glance from Roy. Havoc was drumming his fingers on the table and shifting in his chair, clearly itching to get moving, and Ed finally took pity on him.

‘Come on, Al, we’d better make sure we’ve got everything. Meet you out front?’

That was to Mustang, who nodded as he elegantly mopped up ketchup with a piece of toast. ‘Half an hour, Ed, no more. Don’t get distracted by those arrays.’

Ed grunted his agreement, knocking back the last dregs of his coffee and feeling it heat him all the way down to his gut. He expected the bond to broadcast its displeasure at even greater distance from Roy, but the tether stayed as strong and sure as ever. More to the point, despite all the souls milling around the canteen, the ongoing itch of that he had experienced since the bond first came into being was gone. Instead the line cleaved through everyone else like a knife through butter — an arrow finding its way, straight and true, back to Roy.

He had known the bond was different this morning, but he had not realised quite what that could mean. All this time he and Roy had been plagued by inconvenient side effects, but now one of the most noticeable and irritating had vanished in the course of one night, and Ed found himself almost missing the static of the interference. He had begun to accept it as normal, and now the world seemed alarmingly senseless in its absence.

‘Are you all right, Brother?’

‘Hmmm?’ Ed looked over at Al, who jerked his head down to where Ed was absently scratching at the array on his wrist. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Al. just thinking, that’s all.’

Al raised one eyebrow, but he let Ed’s excuse pass as they wandered down the corridor towards their room. It was only once they were in the tight confines of the four walls, shut away from the rest of the world, that Al leant back against the door, folding his arms and waiting peacefully. He looked as if he could stay like that all day, and Ed shot him a glare as he reached for the suitcase and began to pack things away. There was no way he was telling Al anything. The brat had to at least ask first.

‘Did you have fun?’

The blush exploded onto Ed’s face despite his best efforts to stop it, and he pitched a filthy look at Al, whose grin only widened. Of course, any fear of disapproval from his little brother had faded years ago. Al had always seen right through Ed’s excuses of anger and annoyance over Roy’s behavior to the tender foundation that lay beneath. Still, just because Al understood did not make it any less embarrassing.

‘I’ll take that as a “yes”.’ Al pushed himself away from the wall, practically beaming as he brushed Ed’s hands away and folded the clothes he had been shoving into the suitcase at random. ‘I’m happy for you, Brother. As long as you’re sure it’s what _you_ want.’ He cocked his head slightly, glancing back at Ed, and those gold eyes slipped with brief doubt down to his left wrist.

‘It’s not the bond, if that’s what you mean.’ Ed sat on the opposite bed, reaching for the sheaf of his dad’s papers on the bedside table and counting the pages. Mostly it was for something to keep his hands busy, but if anything got left behind, then they could not come back for it. ‘You know all this started long before that came into our lives. It just — it gave us a shove in the right direction.’

‘It made you stop and see each other,’ Al pointed out. ‘ _Really_ see each other.’

‘Yeah, well hopefully no one else will notice. We can’t — it’s not something we can exactly tell the world about. At least not until I’m out of the military.’ Ed scowled, grabbing his jacket and shoving the papers in his pocket before snatching up some clean underwear and heading for the bathroom.

‘I’m good at keeping secrets!’ Al called out after him, still easily audible through the thin bathroom door as Ed answered the call of nature and changed into clean underwear. ‘We’ve had enough practice!’

Ed sighed, knowing that Al would never let slip. His brother was right: they both knew how important discretion could be. Their past, the armour, the bond and now this. It seemed that keeping things to themselves had become a habit.

Pulling the flush, he washed his hands before opening the door and leaning against the threshold, watching Al snap the suitcase shut with ease.

‘Thanks, Al.’

His little brother looked up with a bright, honest smile, shrugging his shoulders as if his simple, straightforward acceptance was meaningless. ‘You suit each other, Brother. That’s been obvious for a while.’

Ed rubbed a hand over his forehead, feeling the dead weight of certainty settle on his shoulders. ‘Not everyone’s going to think the same thing. There’s going to be plenty of people who don’t believe we should be together.’

‘Only if they don’t know you.’

Al said it in a flat, hard voice, and Ed could not help but smile at his protective streak. In this, as in everything else, Al was his ally, and he would fight to the bitter end against those that got in their way. ‘You’re happy, Brother. Properly happy. That’s all that matters.’

With a grunt, Ed pushed himself away from the door, picking up the suitcase and swinging it casually in his hand as he walked towards the door. ‘I’d feel better if all this shit with Danner wasn’t a problem any more. Fuck knows what’s happened in Central while we’ve been gone.’

‘We would have heard something if they’d caught him.’ Al followed on behind, locking the door and striding along at his brother’s side as they headed for the parade ground. ‘I looked at Dad’s arrays last night. Most of its schematics and practice-runs; it’s the last page that’s the concrete design.’ Al’s smile had vanished, and now he was pale-faced, shoulders hunched and miserable in his jacket. ‘It’ll kill you if you use it. It almost seems like the whole point. It’ll take out Danner as well, but…’

But he and Roy would both be gone.

‘I’ll look at it on the train. Maybe if I can understand the principles I can do something to make it focus on Danner, rather than wiping us both out.’ He glanced over at Al before butting his shoulder against his little brother’s. ‘You know if it comes to it, Al, I’m going to have to use it. He’ll have killed Roy, and I doubt he wants the gate’s power to spread sunshine and light to the world. We can’t let that happen.’

‘I can’t let you do it on your own!’ Al pointed out, pursing his lips as they entered one of the crowded corridors. Handing back the keys to the porters lodge, Al thrust his hands into his pockets, talking in little more than a whisper as he said, ‘You always try and do things by yourself. I can help!’

Ed smothered a sigh, wondering how it always came back to them having this conversation. He had spent his life trying to protect Al from the darkness of humanity and the danger of existence, and Al had always stuck by his side through all of it. Yet he was not the only one who needed protection, and an idea burst into dazzling life in Ed's mind.

‘If you want to help me, Al, then watch Mustang’s back. Danner has to take him out to stand a chance.’

The last word was strained, and Ed forced down the sharp stone of pain in his throat. It was easier in Roy’s presence to believe that it could never happen, that the bastard priest could never tear them apart like that, but Danner was persistent. Ed could not imagine him giving up, even if it took years.

He expected Al to complain and say that it was Ed’s welfare he was worried about it, but his little brother was far from stupid. Al’s single solemn nod was all the answer he needed as they pushed their way outside and trotted down the steps to where Havoc and Mustang were waiting.

‘I’ll do my best, Brother.’

Coming from Al, that assurance was worth its weight in gold. Determination was a trait they both shared, and he knew that Al would keep his word. If it helped Ed focus on the problem of Danner, then he would protect Roy to the best of his ability.

Ed just hoped it would be enough.

As they approached, Ed could see Havoc hopping impatiently from foot to foot, puffing on a cigarette as he waited. Roy was standing at the boot of one of the military’s sleek black cars, and Ed rolled his eyes. The station was just a short walk away, they could have been there in ten minutes, but clearly someone did not think they had that much time to spare.

‘Time to go?’ Havoc asked, crushing his cigarette beneath his boot as Roy nodded. ‘Finally!’

‘Bet the train’s late,’ Ed muttered, chucking the suitcase in the boot and slamming the lid before slipping in to the back seat next to Al. Roy was in the passenger seat, and as Havoc put the key in the ignition Ed caught Roy’s brief look of tender amusement in the rear view mirror. It was not much, just a whisper of an expression, but it was enough to remind him that the previous night had not been a fantasy, and that the closeness they shared was as real as the world around them.

With a grumbling purr, the car engine spluttered to life, the gears graunching as Havoc pulled away. They swept smoothly down the approach to the perimeter before pulling out in to the road beyond, merging with the other traffic as the pavements bustle with the morning commute.

The silent ride was punctuated by Havoc’s groans of frustration as he tried to balance speed and safety, dodging around parking cars and glaring at a gaggle of women who crossed the road without looking. Ed could hear the lieutenant grinding his teeth, the image of impatience next to Roy's calm demeanor.

By the time they reached the station, the steam from the train was clearly visible over the roof. The engines were being stoked, and it could not be long before it left for Central. Quickly, they grabbed their cases, leaving the car in a designated military bay and dropping the keys in at the sentry point outside the station door.

There was barely any time to acknowledge the man’s salute as they made their way on to the crowded platform, nudging their way through the crowds of commuters towards the carriages. The air was thick with the chatter of people and the shrill cry of station guards’ whistles, and the smell of coal smoke and oil cloyed in Ed’s nose.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a newspaper. It had probably been dropped by one of the commuters, and now its pages rustled in the passing of so many feet, fanning themselves to the air. Yet it was the headline on the front the made Ed reach out, snatching it from the ground before hurrying after the others.

“Man Found Dead In Temple Fountain.”

Ed’s blood ran cold, and he almost collided with another traveler as he tried to walk and read at the same time. His eyes kept jumping from one detail to the next, taking in snatches of the story as icy, sickening guilt swam in his guts.

The hiss and clank of the train faded from hearing as he came to a halt in the queue for one of the doors, tearing his eyes away to find Roy watching him with concern.

Mutely, he turned the paper around, letting him see the headline and the grainy photo below it.

‘They killed Garrick.’


	22. Chapter 22

Roy stared out of the window, paying no attention to the speeding scenery as the rhythmic rattle of the train’s wheels on the tracks filled the air. His mind was brimming with questions — overflowing with uncertainty — a far cry from the tranquility of Ed’s embrace. Reality had interceded, cruelly throwing them back into confusion and pain as they were reminded once more that their lives were in danger.

Glancing down at the paper that rested on the seat next to him, Roy felt his stomach clench anew, wrung dry by anxiety. The article described the old man as a nameless eccentric, but Roy knew that it was Garrick who had met a brutal end. Most likely it had been Danner himself, or some of his followers who did the deed, and while Roy swam in guilt, he could not help but wonder how much they had discovered before sending Garrick to join his wife in the afterlife.

‘They just dumped him in the fountain.’

Al’s distressed statement was little more than a whisper, barely audible over the din of the train, but Roy could see from the paleness of his face and the brightness of those eyes that his voice covered intense emotion. He was not trying to be discreet; it simply hurt to speak of it. In comparison, Ed’s expression was like stone. Until Al spoke he had been poring over his father’s arrays again, hunting for any answers that they deigned to reveal. Now, he watched his brother, jaw clenched and his gloved hands tight around the pages in his grasp.

‘It was probably meant to be a message to us — a threat.’ Roy shifted in his seat, folding his arms across his chest as he tried to think of the right words. Ed’s innocence was a gossamer dream, long lost beneath reality’s harsh light, but through it all, Al had managed to hold onto the conviction that people were good and honest, despite all the evidence he must have seen to the contrary. ‘They wanted us to know they were only a few steps behind.’

Al twisted his hands in his lap, staring firmly at the carriage floor as he chewed his lip. ‘We didn’t even try and take him with us. We just left him there.’

Next to Al, Havoc bowed his head. Perhaps the lieutenant did not feel Garrick’s loss as keenly as Alphonse, but Roy knew he had always hated to see a colleague distressed. Al might not wear a uniform, but he was still one of them, the same as Ed. ‘He’d never have come with us. We could have dragged him away, and he would only have found his way back.’ Havoc reached for a cigarette, sighing as he realised he could not smoke it in a crowded train carriage. ‘I never thought the bastards would kill him, though. He was just a harmless old man.’

‘One who knew too much.’ Ed shook his head before scowling back down at the arrays. ‘We don’t know that whoever was there was after us, or even if it had anything to do with Danner,’ he pointed out, ‘but if it did, then don’t you think Garrick would be a loose end that Danner would want to keep quiet? Somehow I don’t think the priest’s the kind of person to let someone live once they get in his way. ’

Roy felt the words tremble along the bond, thick and heavy with foreboding. He knew that Ed was not just talking about Garrick — could sense the fear that circled them both like wolves around a deer — and he fought against the urge to reach out and comfort Ed. Out here, exposed and vulnerable to the judgment of the world, such things were a luxury, and Roy’s hands tightened impulsively as he held himself back.

‘You think Garrick might have been the target?’ A fraction of doubt shaded his voice, and he tipped his head to the side as Ed looked his way.

‘This time? Maybe.’ Ed shrugged, tucking one foot up under him as he returned to reading. ‘They could have known we were there, but they never looked for us afterwards. Perhaps that tunnel dumped us a long way from the temple, but getting away was easy. If it was us they were after, wouldn’t they have left to chase us down rather than finishing Garrick?’

It was a good point, one that Roy had not considered. He had assumed that it was their presence that had brought the end crashing down on Garrick’s life, but even amidst the jangle of discordant shock, Ed still had the sense to think logically. Some people might say it was cold, but Roy knew better than that. Ed was not trying to make excuses; he was simply putting together the scraps of information to form the best conclusion.

‘Either way, they probably know we were there by now, and they know we found something. It’s going to make Danner desperate.’ Roy kept his voice level, quiet and contained even while his heart sank like a dead weight in his chest. Every day that passed felt like time running out. How long would it be before the risk of capture was outweighed by the priest’s need to have Ed bound at his side? How many more days would pass before skirmishes in the dark became a more overt form of attack?

‘The sooner we get back to headquarters, the better I’ll feel,’ Havoc murmured, getting to his feet and straightening out his jacket. ‘I’m getting coffee. Looks like we could all use it.’ He scanned the carriage with critical blue eyes, but Roy doubted he would see anything ominous. Danner might be driven to rash action, but this many witnesses were really not his style. ‘If anything happens, raise hell, sir.’

‘Of course, Lieutenant.’

Roy settled more comfortably in the threadbare seat, trying to turn his mind away from the events of East city and towards what awaited him in Central, but the guilt lingered on, fuelled by Al hunched and miserable in the seat opposite and Ed’s tension at his side. No matter what the reason for Garrick’s death, it was impossible to escape the fact that, other than his killers, they were the last people to see Garrick alive. Perhaps they should have tried to take him with them, but Roy had been so focussed on getting out — on protecting _Ed_ — that he had not even considered the old man’s safety, and now that lack of forethought sat like stone in his gut, hard and uncomfortable.

Swallowing tightly, Roy tried to push his thoughts aside and concentrate on the difficult path ahead. The rhythm on the train should have been soothing, but he found the continuous clatter of the carriage annoying at best. It punctuated his thoughts like gunfire, leaving him clutching half-finished ideas and struggling with faint nausea.

He never enjoyed travelling by rail, and he had learned early on in his career that reading reports was nothing short of impossible if he did not want to spend some of the journey with his head in the toilet. How Ed could sit there reading so intently was a mystery to him, and he found himself staring at that focused profile, trying to pick up any indication of discomfort.

Yet Ed looked as naturally studious as if he were in the library, surrounded by peace and book-lined shelves rather than the chatter of passengers. Newspapers rustled and an obnoxious child a few seats back started to argue with its mother, but Ed ignored it all, lost in the world of alchemy as easily as if he had stepped into another room. Even the bond was quiet, docile for the moment, and Roy found the jagged edges of his mood smoothing themselves away beneath its calming presence. Ed was emotionally detached from the arrays that he studied. He was looking at them like puzzle pieces, rather than implements of death, and the tranquility of his knowledge was enough to ease the rough sea of Roy’s fraying temper.

Rolling his shoulders, Roy forced himself to look away, unintentionally catching Al’s eye as he did so. It seemed that as Roy had been watching Ed, so Al had been watching him. Despite Ed’s earlier assurances, Roy still expected something like protectiveness, possibly even censure, but instead the corner of Al’s mouth tilted upwards: a fraction of an accepting smile.

Without a word, Al reached forward, tugging one of the pages from his brother’s grasp and settling down to read it. Ed protested, but it was an absent-minded half-growl, and by the time Havoc staggered back with four paper cups filled with coffee, the two brothers were once again utterly engrossed in the notes before them.

The lieutenant reclaimed his seat, careful not to slop the coffee as he passed one to Roy and nudged Al to take the other two. The scent of it was sharp, bitter and cheap, but Roy still sipped it gratefully, feeling the heat ease his stomach a little as he watched Havoc through the steam that emanated from his cup. The man looked concerned; he was more tense than usual, and judging from the scent of smoke around him he had stepped out to the back platform to have a cigarette.

‘Report, Lieutenant.’

Blue eyes flicked up to meet Roy’s gaze, and Havoc’s lips twisted into a grimace. ‘Nothing serious, sir. Just got confirmation that the police are on this train. About a dozen of them, up towards the front.’ He pointed one finger along the carriage before scratching his head. ‘Do you think we delayed them for long enough for you to stay in control?’

Roy looked down into the mud-coloured drink in his cup, giving it careful consideration as the stumbling train of his thoughts began to pick up speed. ‘It’s better than nothing. We should get back to Headquarters with enough time for me to meet with General Marlow. He’s a reliable man, and the Fuhrer will take his concerns seriously and hopefully give us the freedom we need.’

‘And what about the Chief of Police?’ That was Al, looking up from the paperwork in his hand as he listened. ‘If he reads through the files too closely, he’s going to start asking awkward questions about you and brother.’

‘If the military start making demands, he should be too busy hunting for Danner to have time to go back to square one. I’m assuming he’s with the other police?’

Havoc shrugged. ‘Not sure, sir. I just overheard that there were a group of cops onboard. No specifics.’

Roy pursed his lips, glancing out of the window at the rushing world beyond the pane as he considered his options. ‘I’ll make talking to the military my top priority once we are back in Central. If I have time at the end of the day, I’ll try and meet with the Chief. If nothing else I might be able to steer him in a favourable direction.’

Havoc grunted, leaning back in his seat and grumbling under his breath as he tried to stretch out his legs without kicking Roy in the shin. ‘I suppose we’d better hope the train’s not delayed. Nine times out of ten, it’s at least an hour late back in to Central.’

Pinching lightly at the bridge of his nose, Roy nodded, knowing that Havoc had a point. Even on the way to the East they had been running late. The journey was long enough to start with, and delays simply made it interminable. He itched to be moving and putting some of his ideas into action. The time for patience had long since passed; they had been at Danner’s mercy long enough. Now he finally had a plan to fight back, and all he could do was sit in a stupid carriage and wait for the miles to melt away.

Turning to look out of the window, Roy stared blankly at the rushing view. The sun glowed in the delicate blue sky, interrupted by the occasional fluffy white cloud that cast fleeting shadows over the fields. Fertile soil kept Central fed, and Roy found himself staring at the bland, boring crops and thinking of the dream world he and Ed could share at will.

He knew that place was a fantasy, but sometimes it felt more real than anything he experienced during his waking hours. It flooded every sense, far more than a simple picture in his mental landscape, and despite his impatience to be on the move, Roy felt the memory of it begin to relax him. He could almost pretend that the hiss of the wheels on the rails was the hush of the distant sea. Engine oil and stale coffee smelled nothing like sun-sweet barley, but even remembering the serenity there was enough to ease taut nerves and allow his shoulders to drop.

Even better, he could feel the reflection of relaxation cupping Ed in its grasp. He hunched over his notes less, and irritable sighs and unconscious noises of annoyance fell silent, leaving Ed studying his father’s designs with peaceful, diamond focus.

Roy realised that if he could do that for the rest of his life — could calm Ed’s jagged mood and soothe him back towards something like happiness — then he would jump at the chance. The bond made it possible. If they were as they had been a matter of weeks ago, separate and isolated, Roy would never have found the words to get past Ed’s walls of distrust and uncertainty. The bond cleaved through all barriers, shearing away lies and prevarication to display the simplest truths.

He and Ed worked together. It was not just about lust or sex, but a deeper level of understanding. Roy wanted to believe that, with enough time, they would have worked it out without the bond, but even though the alchemy had been forced upon them both, he found himself strangely grateful for the gold, gleaming link that bound them together.

It was hard to believe that something which felt so right could have been an accident. Danner had never meant to connect them so intimately — would do his best to break them apart — yet even though he knew the risks, Roy struggled to believe destroying the bond could be possible. It felt so unbelievably strong…

‘General Mustang?’

Roy lifted his head at the interruption, tugging at his sleeve to make sure the array was hidden from sight as he took in the uniformed man standing in the narrow passageway between the seats of the carriage. Not a soldier, but police: the black of his jacket was flawless, unmarked by even a spot of lint, and silver hair was groomed neatly back from his face. He was clean-shaven, and hazel eyes twinkled jovially as the man held out a hand.

‘Chief Inspector Myers.’ The man smiled, one eyebrow raised in a pitying expression. ‘No doubt you’ve had enough of police uniforms to last you a lifetime.’

Roy got to his feet, gripping Myers hand in a firm shake as he noticed Ed and Al subtly conceal their father’s papers. ‘Your men have been a wonderful help to us, Chief Inspector. I would not say a word against them.’

‘The ones who have proven loyal, you mean.’ Myers ducked his head in thanks as Al got to his feet, offering his seat before gesturing towards the buffet car.

‘I’m going to go and get something to eat, General, if that’s all right?’

It was unusual for Al to ask him permission, but Roy noticed the sheaf of pages in his arm and knew that he was probably looking for a place to work away from the chief’s curious gaze. ‘Of course, Alphonse. Fullmetal, you may as well go with your brother, unless the Chief Inspector has any questions for you?’

Myers laughed, a rich, gentle sound in the face of Ed’s unapologetic glare. ‘No, no. I’m sure that’s not necessary. I believe my officers may have jumped to an unseemly conclusion when labelling the major a suspect. Looking for an easy conviction is an old police habit, and one I’m trying to train out of the new recruits.’

He straightened the front of his jacket with a tweak of his fingers as Roy sat down again. Havoc was still in the seat by the window, his stance professional but his eyes trained on the view outside the window. He looked like another disinterested soldier, but Roy knew the lieutenant would listen to every word exchanged and draw his own conclusions on Chief Inspectors Myers.

‘I’m sorry to bother you unofficially, General, but you know how it can be in an arranged meeting. All talk and no substance. When I saw you were on board I thought I would take a moment to discuss things with you one-to one.’ He smiled, his amiable expression unfaltering in the face of Roy’s mask of professional interest.

‘I understand, Chief Inspector. As you can see the Cut-Throat Killer case has had to take a back seat due business in the East.’ Roy leaned back, careful to keep his posture relaxed as he read the little clues in the on Myers’ face. ‘If it were not for Major Elric’s involvement, I doubt the military would have intervened. Unfortunately, as soon as he was considered a suspect, we had a responsibility to intercede.’

Tiny lines around the Chief Inspector’s eyes deepened as a commiserating smile curved his lips. ‘When I heard what had happened, I told my men they had invited the military in.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I mean no offense, General, but the more men on the case, the greater the confusion. There is so much scope for failures in communication, facts going astray… I’m sure you know what I mean.’

Roy nodded, following the older man’s reasoning with ease. Military operations grew in complexity with every separate department involved, and a situation that could have been resolved by one man in a week took a deployment more than a year. ‘No offense taken, Chief Inspector. If I’m honest, I had hoped the police would be able to catch the culprit in our absence, but it seems he is intelligent enough to evade everyone’s best efforts.’

‘Anders said they had run out of hot leads.’ Myers scratched his chin, relaxing back into his chair and staring thoughtfully at his shiny boots. ‘One or two sightings turned out to be nothing but wild goose chases. There is some speculation among the force that the man has already fled the city.’

‘And taken police and soldiers with him.’ Roy sighed, trying to judge how much Myers could be trusted. His instincts always warned him from arming anyone in a position of power with all the facts, but he had to guide Myers onto the right course of action. If he failed, it would lead to another unwanted conflict of wills once the wheels of fear and paranoia had been set in motion within the military. ‘It’s that corruption of men to his cause which is going to concern the Fuhrer. One man brainwashing soldiers is hard enough, but if he sold that technology to an enemy…’

‘You think that could happen?’ The Chief Inspector leaned forward, his eyes bright with intelligent curiosity. ‘We’ve been treating him as a madman. I had no idea the military saw him as a threat on the political stage.’

‘It seems Danner was known for his research in matters of the brain several years ago, under a different name of course. I doubt the military will be happy until he is… no longer a concern.’

‘And I imagine it would bring both you and major much needed peace of mind.’ Myers glanced out of the window, briefly distracted by the view, and Roy forced down the first flare of uncertainty in his gut as the Chief Inspector clarified, ‘Since he appeared to target yourself, Major Elric and the major’s brother in his later attacks, I mean. It seems that you were lucky to escape with your lives.’

Roy swallowed, knowing that the flat calm of Myers’ expression hid a depth of intelligence and understanding that would make him hard to manipulate. Perhaps Anders had been more aware of events than he had imagined and had relayed her knowledge, but Myers gave nothing away. The Chief Inspector was watching him, eyebrows raised and a friendly, if vacant smile perched on his lips.

‘We escaped unscathed thanks to the courage and determination of Anders and her men.’ The glib compliment slipped past his lips with no second thought from his brain, and Roy waved a dismissive hand as Myers inclined his head in gratitude. ‘We were lucky. Danner’s motives are still uncertain, but I doubt he intended to let us live for long. If he is still in Central, then I had hoped the scrutiny of the military and the police would reduce the number of his victims.’

‘I wish that were the case.’ The Chief Inspector sniffed, reaching out for the newspaper and unfolding it before glancing at the front page. His eyes clouded and the joviality faded from his face, leaving him looking strained and tired. ‘There’s murder everywhere you look, these days. I doubt we will have long to wait before the trail comes alive again. Monsters like Danner cannot stay cautious forever. From what I have heard, he is driven by something, and I doubt that need will fade away.’

‘Then when need over-rules his common sense, we’ll be waiting.’ Roy spoke with a flat finality, his words underlined by the iron-sure determination that sat in his heart. He would catch Danner, because the alternative was that the priest got his hands on Ed. ‘By this time tomorrow, I should be able to give you more military assistance; additional manpower to help us search the city. Perhaps that will flush him out of hiding.’

Roy remembered Myers’ earlier hypothesis about Danner fleeing the city, but he knew the priest was far more likely to be in pursuit of Ed than trying to escape. Perhaps he had followed them East, but if he had then it would not be long before he returned to Central’s urban sprawl to hunt for Ed anew. ‘The sooner we can have Danner and his followers in custody, the better. I’m sure you can agree this is becoming an embarrassment.’

He raised an eyebrow, watching Myers tip his head in faint acknowledgement. ‘Too many men from both forces have been taking in by the priest’s beliefs. We need to put a stop to it.’

‘And we will, General.’ Myers removed his peaked cap, scratching at his head before slipping it neatly back in to place. ‘I’ve come back for that sole purpose. Anders is a fantastic policeman, but she relies heavily on the loyalty of her men. I worry that it will be her downfall, one day.’ Getting to his feet, he bowed his head respectfully. ‘With any luck, this case will be put to bed by the week’s end, General, and we can all rest easy. Anders is giving me a full report once we’re back in the city, and then any assistance you can offer us will be gratefully received.’

‘I’ll make arrangements,’ Roy promised, standing and shaking Myers’ hand again before the man turned away, sauntering down the carriage and back towards his seat. Before long, he was lost amidst the crowded carriage, and Roy raised an eyebrow as he noticed Ed and Al get to their feet from a couple of seats nearby.

‘I thought you went to buffet car?’ he asked, smirking when Ed gave him a dark look. ‘Did you hear everything?’

‘Pretty much, and if we didn’t, Havoc did.’ Ed jerked his head towards the lieutenant, whose bored, vacant expression had melted away to something curious and attentive as soon as the Chief Inspector had taken his leave. ‘What do you think? Is Myers going to be trouble?’

Roy hesitated, allowing himself to turn the issue over in his mind as he sank back into his seat. The man seemed genuine enough, professional, with an edge of resignation and desperation over a criminal evading the long arm of the law for so long. He emanated the same outraged annoyance as Anders, as if Danner had caused personal affront by corrupting men under his command, and that emotion could work in their favour.

‘I think he’ll be easy enough to guide along the right path. He’s passionate for results. He seems to want Danner caught as much as we do, though for different reasons.’

Ed flopped down at Roy’s side, stretching his legs out and propping his boots on the opposite seat. ‘You think we can trust him?’

‘I don’t know.’ Roy rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck, wishing he could dispel the headache that the hot, stuffy atmosphere was summoning in his brow. ‘So far, those who have been corrupted haven’t really been in positions of authority. I suppose they are harder to get to, more difficult to influence.’

‘Brainwash, you mean.’ Ed crossed his arms, moving his feet a little so there was space for Al to sit down.

‘We carry on as before,’ Roy ordered quietly. ‘Neither of us go anywhere alone if we can help it. That really is all we can do short of barricading ourselves away somewhere.’

The look on Ed’s face suggested he was giving that idea some consideration, but Roy knew he would realise it was not a possibility. Any defensive behaviour at this point would bring the sharp, unwanted attention of the military upon them. They had to carry on as if Danner was no real concern, and Roy’s heart trembled at the idea of wearing such a mask.

Fear of this — of being hunted — was different than the chaos of a battlefield. War was a cloud of death, aimless and malevolent, but this was focussed: a bullet from a gun with one heart in mind.

His.

Something brushed over the bond, soft and tender. It was a butterfly kiss of a touch, but it still warmed Roy down to his bones, unlocking the vault of ice that had started to form in his gut. All Ed had done was run a gloved fingertip over the invisible line, but when their eyes met again there was a light there for only Roy to see, speaking in the place of words that had to be left unsaid.

With a faint smile, Roy settled himself more comfortably in the chair, turning his gaze out of the window as Ed and Al returned to their father’s notes and Havoc shifted and sighed in his seat. The train clattered ever onwards, stopping at stations along the way. Some were solid things, squat and ugly in the middle of the countryside. Others were little more than a bank of earth at the side of the track, but each one that passed took them a little closer to home.

The sun rose to its peak and began to sink again, casting its glow across the fields. Gradually, the rural landscape dwindled away, with roads and houses taking the place of open pasture and hedgerows. The breeze through the open window began to carry the scents of the city, and Roy inhaled it gratefully, knowing that, at last, he could start to take action.

By the time the train ground to a halt, clanking and steaming, at one of Central’s platforms, the light outside had taken on the rich quality of mid-afternoon. The station was bustling with people, some alighting from the train with sighs of relief while others waited impatiently, eager to board.

Stiffly, Roy got to his feet, feeling his muscles protest the hours of inactivity as he picked up his suitcase and opened the door, descending to the platform and surveying the crush of people. It took only a moment to pick out Hawkeye standing off to one side, an oasis of military calm amidst the chaotic crowd. Her brown eyes glanced with brief disapproval at the huge clock overhead, which showed the train a mere ten minutes late into Central, and faint lines bracketed her mouth.

‘You have a meeting with General Marlow in twenty minutes, sir,’ she informed him as he approached, falling into step at his side. ‘At his request.’

Roy nodded, nudging his way through the press of people and glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Ed and the others were right behind him. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant. Is there anything I should know about the past couple of days?’

Hawkeye’s shoulders lifted in a sigh as she stepped out onto the pavement and made her way towards the gleaming black car that was parked perfectly at the kerb. ‘Business as usual, sir. Deputy Inspector Anders has kept us briefed, but there’s been little to report.

A slight lift in her voice signified an unspoken question, and Roy had worked with Hawkeye long enough to pick up everything she did not say from as little as a twitch in her facial expression. She had her suspicions about why it was so quiet in Central, and Roy could not do much to confirm them.

‘It’s hard to tell whether Danner might have followed us out East. He would have had to move fast to keep up.’ Quickly, he explained what had happened in the temple, leaving out the sensitive details of the alchemy and simply outlining what had become of Garrick. ‘We didn’t see them, so we can’t say for sure whether they were disciples or not.’

Hawkeye strode around to the driver’s door, pulling at the handle and slipping behind the wheel as Roy relaxed into the passenger seat of a car for the second time that day. ‘We have continued our search for anyone related to the priest, but so far we have found nothing of note.’ She glanced over her shoulder as Havoc slammed the boot and squeezed into the back along with Al and Ed. ‘Lieutenant Colonel Hughes has been exploring a few avenues. I will allow him to brief you on the details, sir.’

Despite himself, Roy smiled, knowing all too well that his command and his allies would not have been idle in his absence. Hughes was like a hound on the scent, sometimes, and if anyone could unearth Danner’s secret means of support, from his mysterious benefactor to his hiding place, then it would be Maes.

‘Anything else?’ Roy asked, watching the play of emotions over Hawkeye’s face as she pulled away from the kerb, steering expertly through the busy street towards the white tower of Central Command.

‘General Chance has been visiting the office. He appears to be angling to get his hands on some of the documents Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes found at Elm Street.’

‘Did you give them to him?’ Roy asked, stifling a smile when Hawkeye shot him a look of arch disbelief.

‘He did not have the correct paperwork,’ she replied primly. ‘We decided it best to transfer them to Deputy Inspector Anders’ care. If they are evidence for the police, they will not allow anyone in the military to interfere, even if the soldiers in question have a writ from the Fuhrer demanding their release. It simply will not hold enough weight with them to guarantee compliance.’

Roy stretched out his legs as much as the small foot-well of the car would allow as satisfaction curled through him. Ever since his empty threats in Roy’s office a few days ago, Chance had been mysteriously quiet. Now it seemed he had simply been biding his time until Roy left and hoping to baffle his command into obedience during his absence.

‘You did the right thing, Lieutenant. Thank you.’ He glanced up at the rearview mirror, seeing the pinched line of Ed’s brow as he glared out of the window. Having the documents with the police would make them harder to access at a moment’s notice, but if it protected them from the untrained clutches of the higher military, then it really was the best choice.

The car tyres hummed over the smooth road as Hawkeye swung onto the approach to the perimeter, pausing at the sentry post before carrying on towards the steps of Central Command. Roy could already see Hughes waiting for them, and as they drew near he noticed the tense lines of anxiety carving their way into his best friend’s face. His shoulders look tense and stiff, as if they were carved out of granite, and the sigh of relief from Maes only seemed to ease that stress a fraction.

‘Good to see you back, Roy,’ Hughes called out as Hawkeye pulled the car to a stop and Roy climbed free of the passenger seat. ‘I need to talk to you.’

‘The meeting with General Marlow, sir…’ Hawkeye reminded gently, marching around the back of the car to retrieve the suitcases.

‘Can you fill me on the way?’ Roy asked, taking in his friend’s swift nod before turning back to give orders. ‘I’ll be back in the office as soon as I can. Ed, I know you wanted to take another look at some of Danner’s notes, but it’ll have to wait. Just focus on the arrays we found for now.’

He expected an argument — could see it burning in the glow of Ed’s eyes — but whatever Ed wanted to say he bit it back, nodding his head as if he did not quite trust himself to speak. Normally, Roy would have relied on his men to make sure that Ed obeyed his orders, but now there was no need. The bond itself rippled with something warm. Ed might not like the order to stay in headquarters, but he understood why Roy had given it. The next few hours would be challenging enough without adding concern for Ed’s welfare to the burden.

Hughes kept up with Roy’s stride easily, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his mouth pressed into a grim line. It was only once they were inside, walking away from the main corridors and deeper into the bowels of the command building that he bothered to speak.

‘Danner’s up to something. There have been a string of thefts reported across the city.’ Hughes ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, checking over his shoulder to make sure the corridors were empty before continuing. ‘Taken in isolation, they’re irrelevant, but when you start adding them up you can get a disturbing picture if you’re in the right frame of mind.’

‘What kind of thefts?’ Roy frowned. Cities always had a relatively high crime rate, but Hughes made it his job to see patterns where everyone else saw anarchy, and if something had caught his attention then it was worth consideration.

‘Everything. From food and blankets to weapons and ammunition. Paper, clothes, medical supplies…’ Hughes grabbed Roy’s elbow, dragging him to a halt at the bottom of the stairs leading up to Marlow’s office. ‘Roy, he’s preparing for something. He has a base, and he’s furnishing it for his last stand. What caught my attention in the first place was the amount of stuff being stolen. They’re not taking it all from one place, but it’s adding up, and it’s done with military precision: necessities only. Nothing precious.’

With a quick nod, Roy sorted through the questions in his mind. ‘Any idea where he’s hiding? Even a glimmer is better than nothing, Maes.’

Hughes’ shoulders slumped, and he rubbed a shaking hand over his face. Roy doubted his friend had slept much in the past few days, and from the look of it things were starting to take their toll. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere, mostly working the Caticutt angle and isolating their properties, but it’s a maze of deeds and tax dodges. We know where he’s not, but there are still plenty of places left to search.’

‘Then keep working on it. With any luck by the end of the day, the brass will be clamouring to help us out.’

Hughes lifted one eyebrow, tired eyes suddenly bright with concern. ‘You’re going to tell them what’s going on with Danner?’ A faint whisper of a smile curved his lips and Roy’s disbelieving look. ‘No, of course not, but you’re going to tell them something.’

‘If I can work the “corruption of soldiers” angle, and make it seem like the brass are under threat, then even suspicious people like Chance will be too busy protecting their own interests to look too closely at Ed and I.’

Hughes tipped his head to the side, giving Roy a long, hard look. If Roy was bothering to mask his expression, Hughes would have seen right through it, but there was nothing but honesty on his features. ‘Still seems like a risk to me,’ Hughes said at last. ‘That’s not like you, not unless you’re backed into a corner.’ He shrugged, looking years older than his actual age as he scratched at his jaw. ‘Danner’s really got us all on the run, hasn’t he?’

Roy reached out, gripping Hughes’ shoulder and giving him a brief shake. ‘Not for long. We’ve dealt with worse things than one stupid priest. I’ll go and talk to Marlow. Meet me in the office at the end of the day, and I’ll let you know exactly where we all stand.’

‘All right. You better go. Marlow’s not so patient he won’t give you hell for being late.’

Roy flicked Hughes a quick wave of farewell, taking the steps two at a time as he ascended towards Marlow’s office. Hughes was right; the man was normally tolerant, but being disrespectfully late was not a good way to start what Roy knew would be a delicate conversation. Marlow had requested this meeting himself, and Roy doubted it would be to ask about the inspection back East.

The young secretary at Marlow’s desk waved him straight through, her grey eyes glancing at the clock with something like amusement as she murmured, ‘Right on time, Brigadier-General. He’s waiting for you.’

‘Thank you.’

Roy took a moment to check his reflection in the big mirror behind her desk, noting with satisfaction that although he was a little travel-worn, he was still acceptably presentable. His gloves were unblemished and the jacket of his uniform was fastened and flawless. Only the scar of cotton Ed had created to replace the missing buttons this morning would have raised any eyebrows, and that was hidden, secret-safe, next to Roy’s skin.

Quickly, he rapped on the General’s door, turning the handle when a voice from within beckoned him to enter. The panel swung smoothly on oiled hinges, and the thick rug on the floor muffled Roy’s bootsteps as he approached the broad expanse of Marlow’s mahogany desk, saluting smartly as he stood to attention.

Marlow’s elbows were propped on the blotter, his hands clasped in front of his face so that only his oddly green eyes and white, bushy eyebrows were visible. If Roy had to guess at his emotion, he would say it was a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Marlow’s pristine head of white, wavy hair was untousled, and the desk in front of him bore only two neat stacks of files, none of which distracted his searing attention from Roy.

One eyebrow rose fractionally at Roy’s display of respect, and he heard a faint, disparaging sniff from behind Marlow’s hands before the general lowered them to the desk, his rough, northern voice scraping over his command. ‘At ease, Mustang. We don’t have time for that.’

‘I have not yet been able to write up the report for the inspection, sir…’ Roy began, knowing that something else had inspired Marlow to call him here, but playing the innocent none-the-less.

‘That is not why you are here, and I think you know it.’ The general leaned back in his chair, his chest lifting in a sigh as he turned a little towards the vast windows behind him. ‘I trust you implicitly, a fact some of my peers find irrational at best, but since you left for East city, certain people have been asking loud, bullish questions about this Danner person.’

‘Yes, sir. I had hoped to talk to you about that.’

Honesty was clearly not what Marlow expected, because he looked sharply back at Roy, his silver brow crumpled and his idly tapping fingers falling motionless on the arms of his chair. ‘You do, do you? That’ll be one in Chance’s eye. He swore blind you would not say a word.’ Marlow got to his feet, moving like a tiger despite his age. He gestured to one of the overstuffed armchairs by the fire before reaching for one of the crystal decanters on the nearby drinks table. ‘Take a seat, Mustang, and start talking. I don’t know much about it, except that the man is killing people…’

‘There is a religious element to it, sir. He’s gathering disciples, and they’re not just people off the street. Over the past week it’s become clear that he has corrupted some in the police force to his vision, as well as soldiers in the military.’

Marlow spluttered on the first gulp of his whisky, shielding his mouth as he gave a great, barking cough before setting the glass firmly down on his desk. ‘Soldiers, or officers?’

It was a typical distinction, and one that Roy knew the Fuhrer would ask as well. Infantry were a seething mass of manpower, little more than ants to the brass, but officers were another matter. Men and women trusted with the military’s vision and authority: incorruptible. ‘We don’t know the full extent of the situation, sir, but we know men and women of rank have joined Danner’s cause. Major Elric is still studying some of the propaganda, but we suspect mental manipulation.’

‘Brainwashing?’ Marlow leaned back against his desk, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Are you serious, Mustang?’

Roy leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees and pressing his fingertips together as he picked his way carefully through the explanation. ‘We know that Danner studied the workings of the brain under the name Richard Milton. Electro-shock therapy, to be precise. He was connected with the military for a brief time. These arrays show some indication of inducing small electrical currents. Enough, possibly, to nudge a receptive individual a step closer to belief.’

He sat back, glancing towards the fire rather than meeting Marlow’s gaze. He did not want to be seen as aggressive or demanding, not now. This was about a subordinate laying out the facts for his superior, and if Marlow caught a hint of anything else, he would be closed to any of Roy’s attempts.

‘The arrays are concealed under a layer of grease on some pamphlets we found, invisible except under certain filters. Only people who held them with their bare hands for longer than perhaps a minute or two would be affected.’

‘Surely not too many people can fall for that? It’s not exactly an aggressive way of recruitment.’ Marlow reached for his drink again, swirling the liquid in the depths of the glass as he waited for Roy’s answer.

‘If it had been only been happening for a few months, probably not,’ Roy acknowledged. ‘But we have reason to believe that Danner has been working on this for years, sir, gathering followers and improving his designs.’

Marlow straightened up, striding across the room to warm himself near the fire. It brought him closer to Roy, and he finally had no choice but to meet Marlow’s eyes, seeing immediately the doubt and uncertainty warring with ever-growing concern.

‘What’s his goal? All these killings, all this subterfuge and evasion, what’s the point of it all?’

Roy licked his lips as his heart sped up, driven faster by adrenaline and the fierce, sharp fear that he would give too much away. Marlow could be trusted, to some extent, but he would always put duty to the military before the welfare of a single man. ‘We believe he has been attempting human transmutations in order to gain an inordinate amount of power. So far he has been unsuccessful, but the longer he remains a free man —’

‘— The better his chances of success,’ Marlow finished for him, his eyes closing briefly as he let out a sigh. ‘Why did you not inform me of this sooner, Mustang? This could have implications of national importance; it’s not just petty killings.’

Roy shrugged, trying to keep his sigh of relief contained. Marlow was following the right train of thought, focussing on the threat to the nation, rather than the specifics of how Danner would do it. ‘Our involvement with the civilian police force clouded the issue, sir. The gravity of the situation only recently became clear to me, and I’ve come to you at the earliest opportunity, especially as I feel that some of the high-ranking officers may be at risk.’

He left the thought hanging in the air, the baited hook, and he tried to ignore the twinge of guilt at such blatant manipulation as Marlow seized upon it.

‘You think Danner’s followers may be in the higher ranks of the military?’

‘Not the generals themselves, Roy said, shaking his head, ‘but the staff around them. Danner is an intelligent man who thinks of more than just alchemy. I doubt he would fail to see the advantage of throwing the army into disarray while he puts his plan, whatever that is, into action.’

Gracefully, Roy flowed to his feet, moving towards the fire until he and Marlow were separated only by the grate. ‘We have had a captain prove herself to be in allegiance with the priest, determined enough to kill herself if it meant keeping his secrets. For the sake of the family, we covered up the circumstances, but if he can inspire that level of devotion then there may be men and women among our ranks who no longer pay their loyalty to the Fuhrer.’

Marlow swore: a low, long, bitter litany of curses. ‘You realise this will only fuel Hakuro’s paranoia?’

‘That’s part of the reason I’ve kept it quiet and hoped to reach a resolution without involving the generals, sir.’ Roy looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, watching the hands hover over five o’ clock. ‘Unfortunately I feel I’ve run out of options. We simply don’t have the man power at our disposal to track Danner down.’

Roy held his breath, hoping with all his heart that his gamble would pay off. Bringing in more men would help them find Danner all right, but it could also mean relinquishing authority to a higher-ranking officer, and that was one obstacle he did not need to deal with. All the anxiety over Danner had crammed his mind full to bursting point, and the thought of having to spend every day watching out for his life and trying to think around another one of the generals was enough to make a hard, bass beat of stress drum in his temples.

‘You’ll have the men you need,’ Marlow promised at last, ‘but it will take time. The Fuhrer will need to be carefully informed of the situation, and then reassured that a full-scale man-hunt would cause undue distress to the civilians.’ Sharp, intelligent eyes caught Roy’s gaze. ‘This might not turn out the way you want it to, Mustang. You know that? I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee the Fuhrer won’t go over your head and take this whole mess out of your hands entirely.’

Roy’s lips twisted in a wry grimace. ‘I think the police force might have something to say about that, sir. They are distrustful of the military at best.’ He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he tried to plot his way through the tangled mass of possibilities. ‘Until I’m ordered otherwise, sir, I’ll continue to make Danner my highest priority, but it seems we are always one step behind. Perhaps if he makes a mistake…?’

Marlow nodded, straightening his jacket and gesturing towards the door. ‘If I hurry, I can make it to the Fuhrer’s office before he retires for the night. I am sure he would not mind being detained for his own security.’ There was something like wry amusement in Marlow’s voice, and Roy felt the relief drift down through him like warm snow. ‘We’ll see if we can get those men for you.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Marlow’s big hand clapped Roy on the shoulder, confidence between colleagues, even if they were technically subordinate and superior. ‘Don’t thank me just yet, Mustang. I know my mind, but sometimes I doubt the Fuhrer knows his. You’ve given me enough information to work with, though I doubt it’s the whole story.’ The general smirked at Roy’s expression of confusion. ‘Save it for someone who doesn’t know you, Mustang. There’s more to this than you’re letting on, but I trust you. If the Fuhrer won’t listen to reason, then I can take it to some of the other generals. A few owe me a favour and should not be too put out at the thought of lending you some soldiers to help with the search.’

Roy nodded, barely daring to breathe as they stepped out of the office. Marlow bade his secretary goodnight, striding across the opulent rugs towards the corridor, his steps quick and decisive. If anyone else were his commanding officer, Roy doubted he would have been able to pull this off, but he and Marlow had been in the sphere of one another’s influence longer than either of them cared to admit. Besides, the general had benefited hugely during the coup following Bradley’s removal from office, and like everyone else in the military, he knew that the calm resolution of that turmoil somehow hinged on Roy and his men.

‘Of course, this would be easier if the Fuhrer deigned to hold his office with the other generals,’ Marlow grumbled, hurrying gracefully down the steps and falling into comfortable step at Mustang’s side. ‘His insistence on being on the other side of the complex is time-consuming at best.’ Marlow smiled as they stepped out into one of the main corridors. In a few minutes, the place would be bustling with soldiers, eager to leave the office and resume their normal, peaceful lives beyond the reach of the military, but for now there was only the eerie, pre-storm peace and their footsteps on the polished linoleum.

‘I think he believes it sets him apart,’ Roy replied, smiling despite himself at Marlow’s bad tempered expression.

‘Puts him out of the loop if you ask me.’ Marlow scratched his nose in irritation, keeping his voice low so that he would not be overhead. ‘This whole situation with Danner will only make things worse.’

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but his words choked in his throat as a warning thrilled up his spine. Nerves jangled with the artic, icy sense of threat, and he spun around in time to see a man in military uniform pick up pace, no longer marching, but sprinting along the corridor like a bull on a charge. His young face was twisted with anger, wrecked by some nameless rage, and something silver glinted in his hand.

Roy shoved Marlow aside as the throwing knife cast a bright, silver arc through the air, missing Roy by a hair’s breadth and embedding itself into the floor behind him. Yet before Roy could even blink, he realised it had been a diversion, something to distract him as the man closed the distance, a bare few feet away from them.

Flames leapt in the air, scorching the walls and blistering the plaster on the ceiling. He had not needed to use his gloves, and in the dense shadows of his mind Roy was not sure he had even clapped. The alchemy had simply been there, a tool waiting to use, and the fire had obeyed his unspoken desire.

Yet it was too little, too late. The thin veneer of heat did not even make the soldier flinch, and Roy dove out of the way of his outstretched hands, feeling something sharp snag on his jacket before the corridor exploded with a familiar, bright blue light.

Tiles bucked and heaved as sharp spars of the floor jutted upwards, and Roy just had time to see a flash of gold amidst the power before everything fell eerily still. Ash drifted down from the ceiling, but Roy ignored it as he blinked through the waist-high forest of spikes towards where Ed held the struggling soldier against the wall. The plaster was cracked around the man’s body from the impact, and he looked too dazed to give his futile struggles any strength. Ed’s flesh fingers were tangled in his uniform, holding him fast, and his Automail arm was slammed so hard against the man’s throat that he was already turning an ugly shade of puce.

Rage and fear clashed and collided along the bond, creating a discordant symphony powerful enough to leave Roy struggling to control the shivers of adrenaline that raced through his body. Nausea churned and clenched in his stomach as a cold sweat broke out over his skin: the aftermath of any vivid, instinctual reaction.

Already doors were slamming open and people were hurrying towards them, calling out questions and keeping their guns levelled at the strange wreck of brief conflict in the corridor. Roy breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Hughes and some of the men from intelligence hurrying forward, quickly giving orders and closing ranks to block prying eyes from the scene.

Glancing over at Marlow, Roy saw the general pulling himself shakily to his feet, straightening his jacket and arching an eyebrow in Roy’s direction.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ Roy asked, his mind racing with suitable words as his body remained rooted to the spot, too uncertain to move. ‘Were you hit?’

‘I believe I’m unharmed,’ Marlow managed, looking over Roy with critical eyes before craning his neck to get a look at Ed and their attacker. ‘It seems that you and your men have this under control. I’ll get to the Fuhrer, Mustang. He needs to hear of this, as well as everything you’ve told me.’

‘Take some of my men with you, sir.’ Roy beckoned for Fuery and Breda, gesturing for them to stay close to the general’s side. ‘In the confusion, I’m not certain who he was aiming for.’

A shadow of fear darted across Marlow’s face, and his sharp nod was readily given. ‘Very good, Mustang.’

Quickly, Roy turned back to Ed, feeling the bond tremble and vibrate around his wrist as he carefully reached out and touched Ed’s elbow, urging him to loosen the pressure on the attacker’s throat.

‘It was you he was after,’ Ed hissed, turning furious golden eyes on Roy, his teeth bared in a silent snarl. ‘He didn’t give a shit about anyone else!’

‘I know, but if Marlow passes it onto the Fuhrer that officers other than me are being attacked, we’re more likely to get results.’ Roy’s hands itched to reach out, to stroke away some of the angry tension in Ed’s shoulders, but he had to settle for standing stoic at his side as the military police clattered up the corridor with handcuffs and restraints.

The soldier tried to struggle, clawing frantically at Ed’s automail arm. His fingernails screeched strangely against the metal, and Roy’s breath caught in his throat as his lashed out, slashing across Ed’s face and raising bright, deep lines of red. He flinched, but did not even begin to relinquish his grip on the attacker’s throat, and Roy snatched at the man’s wrist, seeing a glimmer of silver blades embedded beneath his fingernails before he clenched them into a fist.

‘Grab his other hand!’ Roy roared to a couple of the soldiers nearby, fighting to hold the man’s arm against the wall. Immediately, the soldier scraped furiously at his own palms. Drops of blood splattered on the floor in a gruesome rain, alarming crimson against the grim, institutional colours of the corridor, and Roy noticed the tears running down the man’s face as the police prised his hands open to reveal the tattered remnants of a black array.

‘We’ve got him, Major,’ one of Hughes’ men said, swiftly fastening stocks around the man’s wrists and forcing one of his bloody hands into tight gloves so that he could not harm anyone else. ‘We’ll give him a thorough search.’

‘A change of clothes, too,’ Roy ordered. ‘We don’t want him to benefit from any other arrays he might be carrying.’

‘Draw any that you find,’ Ed added, and Roy heard the well-hidden tremor beneath his words. ‘Even if there’s only part of it left. It could help.’

‘You need to get that seen to,’ Roy murmured, starting to raise his fingertips to the four, parallel gashes on Ed’s cheek. He stopped himself halfway through the movement, folding his arms across his chest instead, trying to ignore the echoing sting of pain across his own cheek. ‘They look deep.’

‘It’s nothing,’ Ed replied, cuffing at the blood with his glove and leaving a smear across his face. ‘Are you all right? Did he touch you?’

Roy shook his head, glancing around the small oasis of calm that surrounded them. Havoc and Hawkeye both stood a short distance away, guns still drawn as they surveyed the soldiers. Hughes was following the military police, no doubt to secure the attacker to his satisfaction, and the other soldiers were gradually starting to disperse. ‘One of the finger blades caught my coat, I think, but he didn’t land a blow. Why?’

He watched as Ed turned back to the wreck of the floor, smoothing out the spars with a simple clap of his hands. The linoleum would never be the same, but at least now the corridor’s surface was flat. ‘The arrays on his hands looked like Danner’s work. He was meant to kill you, or at least try.’

‘Which means there was someone else standing by to take you,’ Roy pointed out, giving the vanishing crowd another hard look. ‘It’s no good Danner killing me if you’re still safe inside headquarters.’ He frowned down at Ed, trying to organise the chaos of the past few minutes in his mind. ‘How did you get here so fast? You were meant to still be in the office.’

‘I had to take a piss,’ Ed spat, glaring at Roy. ‘If I hadn’t, I’d have been too far away to save your sorry arse when — ’ He choked off his next words, dropping his voice to a whisper. ‘When the bond started freaking out.’ He shook his head, his ponytail rippling around his shoulders as he ran a hand through his hair.

‘He’s not going to stop trying,’ Ed murmured, his voice flat and dead. ‘This isn’t going to be the only attempt. Next time…’

The unspoken words hovered between them like an epitaph, grim and cold, and Roy bowed his head as he let the truth sink in to the bone.

Next time they might not be so lucky.


	23. Chapter 23

Tremors of adrenaline rushed through Ed’s body, tearing along muscle and sinew until he had to clench his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. He did not even remember moving. One moment he stood frozen to the spot, the next he had the soldier pressed against the wall, half-crushing the breath from his throat as the tide of avenging alchemy died around them. All Ed had been thinking about was Roy, and even now his hands, metal and flesh alike, pulsed with the urge to keep on squeezing until life was extinguished and the threat was gone.

But there was no one here to punish now. Hughes and his men had taken the soldier away, bundling him off somewhere to be taken apart like a puzzle. Besides, killing one man would not erase Danner’s presence from the world, and Ed was left standing, cold and shaking in the corridor, sick to his stomach with his own helplessness.

‘Sir, I suggest we return to the office,’ Hawkeye said in a firm voice. She stood by Roy’s side, feet braced and her gun at the ready. ‘It’s the most secure location for the time being.’

Roy’s faint, tired sigh was little more than a whisper in the air, and he nodded in agreement as he turned away. ‘Very well, Lieutenant. I had thought we would be safe in headquarters, but it seems not.’

Ed shuddered again, his hands curling into fists in his pocket as he kept his chin raised, scouring the corridor for any sign of danger: people, arrays, weapons — it could be anything, and one strike would end the game.

If he had not been in the nearby bathroom when the bond went wild with fear…

He cut the thought off before it could bloom. There was no point dwelling on what could have happened; he had learned that during his quest for the Stone. Roy was safe, for now, and Ed would do everything in his power to make sure Danner could not change that.

Roy’s shoulder bumped into his, subtle enough to pass unnoticed by those around them, but Ed knew it was no accident. This storm of fear, uncertainty and rage went both ways, and Roy’s normally calm mask was cracking beneath the strain of holding it back. Tight lines etched around his eyes, and a muscle in his cheek jumped from holding back a snarl.

The instinct to seek out somewhere dark and safe – to curl up in one another’s arms and find reassurance – was powerful enough to make Ed’s muscles ache with a deep, bass kind of pain. His next breath was a panicky stutter as he realised his desire was probably impossible, and his heart wailed in denial.

Ruthlessly, he stamped down on the feeling, scowling at the floor. He only looked up when something white flared across his field of vision. A frisson of adrenaline shot through him anew, but it was only Al, the first aid box in one hand and a dressing pad in another. He pressed it without question to Ed’s cheek, waiting for him to hold it in place before falling in at Ed’s side.

‘You’re lucky it seemed to take him a while to put up a fight,’ Al said quietly, ‘and that he missed your eye.’

Ed snorted, pulling the white square away and frowning at the red stain before pressing it harder to his stinging cheek. ‘Don’t think he was trying that hard. He probably didn’t want to have to tell Danner he’d blinded me.’ Ed sighed, letting Roy and Hawkeye lead the way into the office. ‘He looked like he wasn’t expecting a fight at all from Mustang, but he knew he’d fucked up as soon as he missed. You could see it in his face. He only had one chance, and he blew it.’

Dropping into one of the chairs, Ed glared at the paperwork that was strewn all over the office: the messy results of his and Al’s studies over the past hour. ‘If we can find out what arrays were drawn on his palms, we might be able to work out what Danner’s doing,’ he said at length. ‘That fucking soldier might have had blades under his fingernails, but they were too short to do serious damage. This was all about the alchemy.’

‘We already know that Danner has to remove me with care, or you’ll die as well,’ Roy pointed out. ‘That’s what happened to all the victims and their bond partners.’

‘It needs to be quick.’ That was Falman, standing politely at his desk with a stack of files in his hands. The dossiers were the wrong colour to be military, and Ed raised an eyebrow as he explained. ‘I went to the coroner for more information on the victims. It seems clear that if it took more than sixty seconds for the bond to break and the victim to die, then the bond-partner died as well.’

Roy leaned back against the desk, one hand a mere hair’s breadth from Ed’s elbow. ‘How does the coroner know how long it took them to die?’

‘I did not want to ask, sir, but he seemed very certain.’ Falman looked down at the files, flicking open the top one and checking the details. ‘Only the last victim seemed to die quickly enough to allow his bond-mate to survive. The coroner found traces of a drug cocktail that would increase heart rate and blood pressure.’

‘So he lost more blood per second,’ Al murmured, his face creased with disgust. ‘As if slitting his throat wasn’t bad enough.’

Ed bit his lip, trying not to think of Greg as his mind raced and swirled in nauseous guilt. ‘Waiting for someone to bleed out takes patience,’ he pointed out. ‘Those victims were at Danner’s mercy, and he had all the time in the world. It’s not like that with Roy.’ He scrubbed his hand through his hair, pulling a few more tendrils loose from the scruffy ponytail. ‘They need something that takes seconds and won’t kill me in the process. That array on the soldier’s hands could be it.’

‘Falman, go to Hughes and see if they have managed to get a copy of that yet,’ Roy ordered, glancing back to meet Ed’s gaze as Falman saluted and headed towards the door. ‘If you know what it does, would you be able to stop it from working?’

Ed shrugged, shifting restlessly as he folded his arms. ‘Maybe. I’ll know more when I see it, but Danner’s no slouch. Most of his designs seem deliberately complicated — almost impossible to understand, let alone take apart.’ He closed his eyes as another clammy wave of distress washed over his skin, making him feel more like meat in a freezer than a living person. ‘I’ll work on it,’ he promised at last.

Hawkeye cleared her throat politely, waiting for Roy’s permission before she began to speak. ‘May I recommend you and Edward sleep in the office tonight, sir, at least until more secure rooms can be found for you both?’

Ed blinked, trying to keep his face neutral as his heart jolted in his chest. All he wanted was to curl up in Roy’s arms, and now Hawkeye was advising them to sleep in the sheltered confines of Roy’s office. Was she really thinking of security, or had she noticed that something had changed between the two of them? It was impossible to tell from the expression on her face, but Ed thought he saw, for a split-second, something warm the cool brown of her eyes.

‘With the outer room here as well, it’s easier to guard, and we are four storeys up from the ground. Though I know that Danner has not yet resorted to guns, I scouted out potential sniping positions while you were away.’ She raised her chin, the faintest hint of a smile touching her lips. ‘The windows of your office are not directly overlooked, and I am confident you would be safe from a long range shot.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’ Roy smiled in earnest, nodding slowly as he though it through. ‘I think you’re right.’

‘I shall arrange a shift system to keep watch, sir, and I recommend that neither you or Edward go anywhere alone, not even to the bathroom.’

Ed rolled his eyes to himself as Roy agreed. He knew it was a necessary precaution, but that did not mean he had to be happy with the idea. Briefly, he considered some kind of token complaint, but he did not have the strength. Everything ached, drained now that the tide of adrenaline had ebbed. Muscles felt stiff with stress, and his guts fizzed with acid as he slumped lower in his chair.

‘At least the bleeding has stopped,’ Al said quietly, tugging the bloody dressing from Ed’s lax fingers and handing him another one. ‘I suppose we’re lucky no one else was hurt.’

Ed blinked stupidly at his little brother, trying to pull enough of his dazed, heavy thoughts together to form some kind of answer, but all he could do was shrug.

‘Something doesn’t feel right,’ Roy murmured, dropping into a nearby chair and bracing his elbows on his knees. ‘This attempt seems too clumsy and desperate. Perhaps I’m giving Danner too much credit, but…’

‘The soldier wasn’t very old,’ Ed pointed out. ‘A kid, really. If he was more experienced, he would have fought back once you knew he was there, rather than giving up.’

‘But why would Danner leave something so important to someone like that, unless he never expected it to work?’ Roy sighed, sitting back and scrubbing his hands over his eyes. ‘I just feel like we’re missing something.’

‘You could be right.’ Hughes’ tired voice carried easily across the busy room, and everyone looked up to see him step across the threshold and close the door firmly behind him. ‘The soldier’s not saying much, but he doesn’t have to. It’s written all over his face. He was not following orders — he was trying to take you down under his own steam.’

Ed narrowed his eyes, tipping his head to the side as possibilities flickered through his mind. He knew Danner’s arrays when he saw them, even if it was only a glimpse. The soldier had to be involved with him somehow, but if what Hughes was saying was true, then this was not the coordinated attack they had been waiting for.

‘A bid for glory?’ Roy asked, eyebrows raised. ‘Let me guess, he was hoping to do the impossible to get on Danner’s good side. Kill me, deliver Ed and suddenly he’s number one disciple?’

‘It looks that way,’ Hughes dropped a file onto Hawkeye’s desk, sagging against the sturdy furniture and staring at his boots. ‘His name is Wood; he’s a Sergeant under the command of one of Chance’s colonels.’

‘Not an alchemist,’ Ed pointed out. ‘At least not one registered with the State. Could he even have activated those arrays?’

‘He has some expertise, but by all accounts it’s relatively minimal. I don’t think we’ll ever know if it would have worked, but the finger blades did their job. There’s almost nothing left of the designs. He cut his palms to ribbons to protect their secrets.’ Hughes reached behind him, tugging free a plain piece of paper with a scant few lines on it. ‘Somehow I don’t think even you can work out what these looked like when they were whole.’

Ed stretched out, tweaking the page from Hughes’ grasp and frowning at the fragments that had been recorded. Like a stained glass window that had been smashed to slivers of meaningless colour, there was almost nothing left to see. Dimly, he felt Al lean closer, looking over his shoulder and taking in the artefacts that remained, but there were no answers to be found there. The soldier had done a good job of covering his tracks: nothing had been given away.

‘You’re right. I can’t do anything with these.’

Roy reached out, smiling weakly as Ed relinquished the page for him to examine. Watching in interest, he saw Roy’s eyebrow quirk upwards, and after a moment he looked up at Hughes. ‘It does tell us something. Whatever his motives, Wood was expecting to fail. He knew to swipe the blades in all directions to destroy the arrays, rather than just clawing up and down. He planned for this eventuality.’

‘I don’t think he expected Ed to put a stop to him. I heard him talking to himself in his cell, asking why Ed would bother to intercede.’ Hughes grimaced, shaking his head. ‘It sounds like Danner’s been saying that breaking the bond is a kind of liberation: Wood thought he would be setting Ed free.’

Ed did not bother to keep the derisive snort quiet. ‘Free for Danner to have all to himself, like I’m something to be passed around.’ The headache that had been threatening for the past half hour burst into sharp, strong life in his temples. ‘Any chance of getting anything out of this Wood idiot? Anything we can use?’

‘We’re trying,’ Hughes promised, ‘but I’m not about to hold my breath.’ He looked at Roy, gloved hands tightening on the desk at his back. ‘What about Marlow? Was he hurt?’

‘No. He should be talking to the Fuhrer and the brass now.’ Roy sighed. ‘I had him where I wanted him, but this latest incident might take things out of our hands. I need to talk to Anders and Myers. Perhaps we can set a plan in motion before anyone else can intercede.’ Roy cupped his head in his hands, tunnelling his fingers through his hair. ‘At the very least we can encourage them to keep moving forward, rather than letting anyone go back and look too closely at the events of Edil Park.’

‘You stay here,’ Hughes ordered, transferring his meaningful glare to Ed for a moment before piercing Roy with that knowing intensity. ‘Both of you. I’ll bring Anders and Myers to you if I can, Roy, but right now the two of you need to regroup. Eat something and rest, even if it’s only for an hour.’

Roy’s reluctance swarmed along the bond; a dull, angry buzz like thousands of bees. Neither of them were good at standing back and letting others take the burden of their work, and the last thing Roy wanted to do was leave his men carrying out his orders while he retired to his office. Yet Ed could see that Roy needed the break as much as he did — something to draw the line between adrenaline-fuelled reactions and cool, crisp logic.

He was paler than normal, his skin more like marble than anything alive, and he sat hunched in the chair with his elbows on his knees. Each time Roy blinked it was a fraction too slow, and tense, tight lines bracketed his lips, adding years of stress to his appearance. He took a breath as if he was about to argue, but Hughes cut him off with a slice of his hand.

‘No, Roy. More than anything, your men need to know you and Ed are safe. All the problems with Danner will still be here in an hour.’

Roy’s throat pulsed as he swallowed back his words, and the faint sigh that escaped his lips was as good as any agreement.

‘I’ll make sure the room is clear of bugs,’ Hughes promised striding towards Roy’s office with Breda in tow. I need to be sure there’s at least one room in the world where the two of you can be secure — away from both Danner and the prying ears of the military.’

Around them, the rest of Roy’s men got to work, arranging blankets and pillows, creating a watch shift and continuing the incessant struggle to make any progress in their investigations. Hawkeye was on the phone to Anders, briefing her of the situation in clear, unemotional tones while Al helped Falman sort through the coroner reports on the victims, searching for any glimmer of information to help their quest for answers. It was enough to make Ed’s skin itch, shrouding him in shivers of restlessness, but he and Roy were locked in a calm pool while action vortexed all around them.

Abruptly, the door opened to admit Fuery and Havoc. Both men were stony-faced and grim, and Ed felt the bond jerk like a dog on a leash as Roy lifted is head.

‘General Marlow is safely back in his office,’ Fuery reported, licking his lips as a frown pinched his brow. ‘He said to tell you he would be making those phone calls he mentioned.’

‘What does that mean?’ Ed narrowed his eyes, taking in Roy’s grimace and all the nuances of aggravation that flickered across his expression.

‘It means Marlow was unable to convince Hakuro to move in a useful direction,’ Roy replied, shutting his eyes for a long moment before opening them again. ‘He’ll try calling in favours to get us the extra manpower we need to hunt for Danner.’

Havoc nodded, fiddling with an unlit cigarette. ‘We overheard some of what the Fuhrer said. Security has been tightened within the compound —’

‘Particular his personal bodyguards,’ Fuery added, shuffling his feet.

‘— But otherwise it’s a matter for you and the police, sir.’ Havoc stared at his boots as he added, ‘It sounded like the Fuhrer thought you deserved whatever mess you’d landed in, sir.’

Roy’s smile was blade-thin, and Ed could see the icy glow of something derisive in his eyes. ‘Fuhrer Hakuro’s days are numbered, Lieutenant, and everyone knows it. Getting anything from him was a long shot. I had hoped he would believe the request came direct from Marlow, but it’s no surprise that the Fuhrer would decline to offer assistance to myself or men under my command.’

He rubbed a thumb along the line of his eyebrow, pursing his lips. ‘Marlow is on our side at least, and that should work in our favour. Now we cannot be accused of keeping the Fuhrer in the dark, and there is probably a better chance of staying in control of the situation.’

The quiet sound of Roy’s office door closing made Ed look around, and he watched Hughes and Breda put several small devices on the desk. ‘Not many to worry about,’ Hughes said, ‘and there shouldn’t be any new additions if you’re using these rooms around the clock for a while.’ He gestured towards the door with a wave of his gloved hand. ‘It’s ready when you are. If there are any further developments, I’ll let you know, but right now I need you at your best, whatever that takes.’

Briefly, those green eyes flickered to Ed, capturing his gaze, and something twisted uncomfortably in Ed’s stomach. There was nothing censorious in Hughes’ eyes, but there was a knowing light there none-the-less. Nothing had to be said, the knowledge was simply there as sure as any star in the sky.

‘That works both ways,’ Roy pointed out quietly, getting to his feet. ‘You’re no good to me if you’re exhausted, Hughes. None of you are. Don’t wear yourselves down at my expense.’

There was a chorus of acknowledgement from Roy’s command as he turned towards his office, and Ed grabbed the paper that showed the remnants of the array before following on his heels. It was unlikely that he would find anything of use, but at least that way he could claim to be working in the relative privacy and calm of Roy’s office should anyone intrude.

He closed the door softly behind him, hearing the latch snick into place. Immediately, he saw Roy’s mask fall away, revealing the full extent of his exhausted anxiety. Even in front of his men, it seemed, he was never fully exposed, and Ed was not sure whether to be alarmed or reassured by Roy’s obvious faith in him. A week ago, would this even have been possible, to see and know each other so utterly?

Something clenched hard in Ed’s chest, and he strode over to Roy’s side, discarding the paper on the desk as he fisted his hand in Roy’s jacket. Words got caught in his throat, too torn between terror for Roy’s life and soul-shaking rage at Danner to come out right. All he could do was nudge his forehead hard into Roy’s shoulder: a wordless demand for reassurance.

Immediately, Roy’s strong arms curved around his body, muscles tight beneath the sleeves of his jacket. The weight of Roy’s head on top of Ed’s was a burden that he was happy to bear, and he let out a shuddering sigh as he finally allowed himself to relax into Roy’s body.

‘Fucking shit could have killed you,’ he muttered, feeling the bright, hard rage still nestled like a diamond amidst the shadows of his fears. ‘All he had to do was touch you…’

Roy did not argue; maybe he knew it would only add fuel to the unpredictable flare of Ed’s temper. Even though Ed knew in the pit of his mind that the arrays might not have worked, or the soldier might have messed something up, he could not shake the idea of Roy lying dead in the halls of Central command, wiped out by the simple press of a man’s palm.

One of Roy’s gloved hands smoothed its way down Ed’s back, moving back and forth in hypnotic strokes as he pressed a light, lingering kiss to Ed’s forehead. ‘He never got the chance. You stopped him. You saved me.’

A lump lodged in Ed’s throat at the conviction in Roy’s voice. He sounded more than grateful, as if he knew Ed would never let him down. The only one other person had ever used that same, undeniable tone was Al, bur that identical certainty from Roy was all the more precious. Al was his brother, he was meant to believe in Ed, but Roy had no such obligation.

‘I wanted to kill him,’ Ed confessed quietly, lifting his chin and meeting Roy’s dark gaze. ‘It would have been easy — a bit more pressure and the little shit would never breathe again.’

‘You would have regretted it.’ Roy reached up, his fingertips hovering over the cuts that scored their way across Ed’s cheek before he changed direction, tucking a strand of Ed’s hair behind his ear instead. ‘You don’t need to be haunted by the ghosts of insignificant people.’

Ed wrinkled his nose, wishing he could argue. In that moment, with the man’s throat pulsing beneath his Automail and a wild heart racing under his fist, all Ed had wanted was to crush that life into silence. It felt like a fitting punishment for anyone who dared to try and harm Roy. Even now, once the roar of rage abated and logic returned, he could not bring himself to feel sorry for the impulse, but he knew what Roy meant. He had enough phantoms of guilt dogging his footsteps without adding another to their number.

‘Thank you,’ Roy said softly, slipping his hand down Ed’s arm and twining their fingers together before guiding him towards the waiting bulk of the couch. ‘I should have been more aware of the danger, but I barely noticed him before it was too late. If you had not been there, I don’t know how it might have ended.’

‘He’d be a streak of charcoal, probably.’ Ed sighed, collapsing into the sofa as the circling vultures of exhaustion swooped over him. ‘I saw the flames, Roy. You didn’t even use your gloves or clap your hands.’ He watched as Roy snapped his fingers, almost instinctive by now, summoning a fire within the grate. It was a tame kitten compared to the towering wall of burning air that he had seen in the corridor, but there was still something wild about its dance.

‘Another gift from the bond,’ Roy replied, sinking down next to Ed and reached out, tugging him gently closer until Ed’s weight was pressed along his side. ‘I’m sure it was only easy because I’m connected to you. Not that it did me much good. He was going too fast at that point. Perhaps if I’d noticed him earlier —’

‘It was meant to be safe here,’ Ed replied, waving a hand towards one of the windows. ‘Out there it’s easy to be on your guard, but in here its easy to pretend that they’re all on your side. That’s what the military’s _about_.’

Roy grunted, a harsh, disenchanted sound as he rested his head on top of Ed’s again. His breathing was steady and comforting beneath Ed’s palm, almost like the purr of a cat, but as much as he wished he could curl up and enjoy it, nagging, worried thoughts circled through his head, leaving him tense and miserable in Roy’s arms.

‘Are you all right?’

Ed swallowed, wishing he could keep his mouth shut. He hated the thought of Roy’s potential withdrawal, but the spectre of the military hung over their heads. If Roy’s goals and ambitions were destroyed because they were caught in a compromising position, then Ed knew he would loathe himself forever. ‘I thought we couldn’t do this here: touching and — stuff.’

Roy’s arms tightened for a moment, almost painfully close around Ed’s shoulders, and Ed looked up to see the battle of obligation and desire play itself out over Roy’s features. The shadows of a war flickered in his eyes, emphasised by the uncertain light of the fire, but the moment of decision was rock certain as Roy met his gaze.

‘I need you,’ he murmured, pursing his lips before glancing over his shoulder at the door: the only thing standing between them and the scrutiny of the world. ‘I need to feel you with me and know you’re still here. The thought of Danner taking you…’

He did not finish; there was no need. The sharp blade of despair pierced them both — the bond like barbed wire with thorns of anguish. It was almost too much for Ed to bear, and he leaned up, pressing a soft, certain kiss to Roy’s lips.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he promised, sagging against Roy’s warmth and letting his eyes flutter closed. The fight in the corridor had been short, but the explosion of adrenaline had left him hollow in its wake. The grabby, fitful hands of sleep were trying to drag him under, and all the internal warnings that any brief sleep would only be interrupted by the demands of Roy’s men or the police fell on deaf ears. Part of him snarled at the advance of darkness, longing to stay awake so that he could watch over Roy, but that was impossible.

He could feel Roy’s too-fast heartbeat starting to slow, dragged back to a normal pace as they leaned against each other, lost in a fugue of near-sleep. The crackles of the fire were distant things, punctuated by the pop and spark of a log in the grate, and the ticking of the clock on the mantel was erratic in Ed’s ears. The scent of sea salt and sweetness tickled his nose, and he could almost feel the sun on his skin and sense the warm, rich soil beneath him as reality began to fade.

The heavy tap of a fist against the door jolted Ed away, leaving him blinking around Roy’s office as his head throbbed with the sudden change. Next to him, Roy gave a quiet, exasperated groan, peeling his eyes open and clearing his throat before he called out, ‘One minute.’

Ed scrubbed his eyes, glaring at the clock as Roy forced himself to stand up, straightening his jacket before heading for the door. At least that meant there was some distance between them, rather than being found curled up around each other like kittens, but the width of the room felt like miles, and Ed ruthlessly squashed the hollow, bereft feeling in his chest.

Roy opened the door, revealing Hawkeye and Al. The lieutenant had a couple of trays of hot food in her hand, while Al was carrying the _Saffron Soul_ book. Neither of them looked particularly perturbed at being asked to wait, but Al caught Ed’s eye, and an undeniably smug smile curved his lips.

Brat.

‘Chief Inspector Myers and Deputy Inspector Anders will be here within the half hour, sir.’ Hawkeye told him, holding out the trays for Roy to take. ‘I suggest you eat something before the meeting, as there’s no telling how long they might be here.’

‘They’ll be out of the door again within the hour if I can manage it,’ Roy promised, accepting the trays and turning around to put them on his desk. ‘Myers and Anders are perceptive people; I plan to guide them in the right direction and then get them out of Central Command before they — or anyone else — has a chance to ask too many questions.’

‘I’ll get you some coffee, sir.’

‘I thought you might want to look at this, Brother,’ Al added, wandering over to the sofa and surrendering the book. ‘Scieszka’s been working hard while we’re away. She thought she would focus on the end of the book and see if it told us anything we don’t already know.’

‘Have you read it?’ Ed asked, raising his eyebrows when Al shrugged.

‘Not exactly. It’s gibberish. Scieszka wondered if it was some kind of code, but it’s literally just a mass of letters. No words that I can make out.’

Ed flicked open the pages and, immediately, he saw why it had caught Scieszka’s eye. Before, words had been clearly spaced, comprehensible even if they were in a foreign language. This was simply a neat grid of letters with no obvious relationship between each one.

Someone tapped his arm, and he emerged from his reverie to see Roy holding out a plate to him. ‘Eat this before you get started,’ he urged. ‘I want you in the room when Anders and Myers are here anyway.’

‘Won’t that look weird?’ Ed asked, setting the book aside before taking the plate and spearing a bit of meat on his fork. He was not particularly hungry, but the gravy tasted rich on his tongue and for the first time since leaving the East, his stomach groaned in appreciation.

‘Not particularly,’ Roy replied, looking up as Hawkeye re-entered with a pot of coffee and two mugs balanced on a tray. ‘They both know how closely you’re involved in the case.’

‘Besides, it’s probably best that the general’s not left alone, even with people we trust,’ Hawkeye reasoned. ‘We shouldn’t take any chances.’

Roy nodded, taking a bite of his dinner and pulling a face before swallowing. ‘Are there any new developments I should know about?’

Al and Hawkeye both shook their heads simultaneously. ‘It’s been quiet so far. Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes said he would be back once Wood had been questioned more fully, and General Marlow is believed to still be in his office,’ Hawkeye replied. ‘I’ll report in as soon as I hear anything more.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant,’ Roy murmured as he straightened up and nodded respectfully. ‘Dismissed. I’ll let you know if there’s anything we need.’

Obediently, both Al and Hawkeye made their way to the outer office. The open doorway briefly let in the sounds of Roy’s command busy at work: rustling paper, low murmurs and the scent of coffee and hot food. In an instant, they were closed in once more, and Ed watched Roy pick over his dinner before discarding his half-empty plate and reaching for the coffee.

‘I look forward to the day when I can eat something other than canteen food again,’ he grumbled. ‘When I’m Fuhrer, I’m hiring a decent chef.’

Ed snorted, trying to ignore the uneasy, aching questions in his heart. It was easy to talk about the future — natural and human — but all the while he found himself wondering if either of them had many days left to enjoy. The threat of death was something Ed had grown used to, but normally it was a fleeting ghost amidst a vicious fight, not a lingering shadow that tainted everything. Besides, he understood enough about what Danner planned to know that if Roy died, the best Ed could hope for was following him as quickly as possible.

Roy’s gentle hand on the top of his head was enough to make him look up from his plate, and he saw that Roy was hunkered down beside the sofa, the firelight behind him casting strange patterns of light and shadow over his shoulders and hair. ‘Please stop thinking like that,’ Roy murmured, leaning in to press his brow against Ed’s, eyes close and lips pressed in a tight, pained line.

‘You can read my mind now?’

The fan of Roy’s lashes swept open, and Ed realised again how easy it was to drown in the midnight blue of those irises, like the deepest, calmest sea. ‘I don’t have to. I’ve seen that look on your face so many times — since you were nothing but a kid. That look that says you’ve already accepted a course of action that most other people would struggle against until their last moment. It hurt to see it back then,’ Roy admitted, ‘and it’s agony now.’

Ed sighed, pulling back to set his plate on the floor. ‘I’m not exactly happy with the idea. You’ll be— ’ A stone settled around his throat, making it almost impossible to speak. ‘Dead, and Danner will be using me to tear the fucking world to shreds. It’s probably going to be the only way to stop him.’

‘Unless we catch him first.’ Roy’s words hovered in the air, the frailest of hopes, already melting like snowflakes in the blast furnace of reality.

‘Roy —’

Another tap at the door interrupted him, and Ed shook his head, pasting a quick smile on his face as Roy seemed torn between responding and listening to what he had to say. ‘Never mind. You’d better get that. It’s probably the police.’

Quietly, Ed allowed himself a moment to watch Roy collect himself. When he was younger, he had always assumed that Roy the man and Roy the soldier were like two separate people, one a baffling enigma, the other an aggravating act, but now he could see that they were facets, like turning a diamond into the light and watching the different colours shine.

He slipped into the guise of a professional so easily. All the edges of his uncertainty were blurred away, leaving only strong, commanding confidence as he called out for whoever was at the door to enter. Myers and Anders were greeted with something like a genuine smile and what looked like Roy’s undivided attention, but Ed knew it would not have slipped his notice that Hawkeye had left the door subtly ajar in their wake. Not so much that she would be able to overhear every word, but just enough to make it easier to enter the room if she needed to.

‘General, it’s good to hear that no one was hurt. We never imagined Danner would try anything like this in the military headquarters.’ Myers sounded genuinely appalled, and Ed listened with half an ear as he reached for the book Al had given him.

‘Neither did we,’ Roy replied. ‘We’re still investigating the matter, but there is some doubt about whether the attacker was acting on Danner’s orders. It seems a bit graceless for the priest’s work, so we’re still considering alternative possibilities.’ Roy leaned against the edge of his desk, not inviting them to sit down as he continued to speak. ‘Thank you for coming here at such short notice. There are a few issues I think we need to discuss.’

Ed flicked through the pages of the book, letting the drone of their voices wash over him. He had no wish to listen to Roy twist the police around his little finger. He had heard the master at work enough to know that he was unlikely to fail. By the time they left, Anders and Myers would be marching firmly along whichever path Roy thought was best.

Settling on the section of strange letters, Ed pulled Scieszka’s translation closer, looking between one and the other as he tried to find some kind of purpose. It was important enough to be included in the tome, possibly so essential that it was hidden behind a cipher, and Ed’s brain began to speed up, plucking at theories until he was completely unaware of anything around him.

He did not notice the door close behind the policemen’s backs as they departed, nor hear the approach of Roy’s muffled footsteps. It was only when the sofa dipped beneath Roy’s weight that Ed tore his eyes away from the book, blinking himself back into a world beyond the printed word.

‘They’re gone already?’

Roy looked at him, his lips curled in an amused smile before he glanced pointedly at the clock. ‘We’ve been talking for more than an hour, but it was worth it. As soon as I have the men I need from Marlow, the police are ready to begin a full-scale search. It’s not elegant, but we should catch Danner in our nets.’

‘As long as we trust every man we use. All it takes is one on his side and the bastard’ll get away.’

Ed watched Roy grimace, tipping his head back in surrender to the inevitable issue of trust. ‘That’s a risk we’ll have to take. It’s the best course of action we’ve got.’ He rolled his head to look at Ed again, dropping his gaze to the pages of the book. ‘What about you? Found anything useful?

With a shake of his head, Ed picked up the translation again, staring at Scieszka’s tidy scrawl. ‘There are words in there, but it’s all guess-work. More than anything, it would be too easy for the message to be lost in translation.’ He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, feeling the bite of tired aches in his muscles.

Quickly, Roy reached forward, snatching the book from Ed’s lap and setting it on the table as Ed’s feeble protest died in his throat. ‘We’re both exhausted,’ Roy said, reaching out to brush a fingertip over the dark shadows Ed knew must be resting under his eyes. ‘There’s no way of knowing how much sleep we’ll get over the next few days. I think we should rest while we can.’

‘You think we’ll get the chance?’ Ed muttered, holding back a sigh as Roy did not bother to answer. Part of him itched to keep working — to rip apart Danner’s arrays and the secrets of the _Saffron Soul_ until there was nothing left to fear — but he did not have that luxury. If he did not sleep, then neither would Roy, and that could cost him his life.

‘Hawkeye got some blankets and pillows out earlier, I’ll see if I can find them.’

‘And I’ll get one last report from the lieutenant. I know you want to keep working, Ed, but a couple of hours will do us both some good.’ This time he smile was edged with sorrow. ‘Besides, it might be the last chance I get to sleep at your side.’

Something choked in Ed’s throat, a tight, sharp thing torn between grief and anger. ‘Don’t talk like that,’ he demanded. ‘It’s not — It’s not going to be like that.’ He hated how weak his protests sounded — how futile — but he had no faith in his own convictions. No matter how hard they both ignored it or tried to fight back, it seemed that neither of them could shake the feeling that the jaws of a trap were closing around them. Even the bond felt lank and heavy, weighed down by the burden of threat that hung in the air.

‘I’m sorry,’ Roy whispered, stepping closer and pulling Ed against his chest, grunting as Ed’s arms tightened fiercely around his ribs. ‘But you do the same thing, you know. Talking about what arrays to use as if the worse case scenario is a foregone conclusion.’ Roy’s hand cradled the back of Ed’s neck gently, and every breath as filled with the scent of spice as Roy nuzzled with weak playfulness at Ed’s nose. ‘Come on. We can’t do anything more about it for now. We may as well take advantage of the peace before all hell breaks loose.’

Slowly, Ed stepped back, relinquishing his fierce grip on Roy’s body before managing to nod his head. Even as he followed Roy through to the outer office, he could smell the tension in the air; that strange, nervous not-quite-scent that preceded any kind of major conflict. Roy’s men were ready for a fight, and that, at least, brought a fraction of relief. No matter what the next few hours held, he and Roy would not have to face it alone.

From the look of things, Hawkeye had already organised some kind of shift system, enabling Roy’s men to crash in the nearby dorms when necessary and always leaving the office occupied. She and Breda were looking over maps and talking in quiet voices, marking areas with crosses as they read over some notes from the police.

‘Sir, the Chief and Deputy Inspector Anders asked me to inform you that they would be checking a lead before they go off duty for the night.’ Hawkeye paused, checking through her notepad as she added, ‘The call came in for them while they were in your office.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’ Roy absently picked up a couple of pillows as Ed grabbed the large stack of blankets that were balanced on Fuery’s empty desk. ‘Did you manage to find out any details?’

The police did not share that information, sir.’ Hawkeye pursed her lips, and when she spoke again her voice was hard. ‘Officer Warner was quick to remind me that it was not my place to ask such questions.’

Ed’s mouth trembled around a snarl at the reminder of that officious bastard — the one who had been so keen to point the finger of blame at Ed in the first place. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago that he had sat in the police station answering questions; he had almost forgotten about the git, but now the angry memories flooded back.

‘Office Warner is an obsequious little shit, Lieutenant,’ Roy pointed out, his words as calm as if he were stating fact, rather than opinion. ‘Is there anything else?’

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow at Roy’s colourful language, but she did not comment as she outlined the situation. ‘Havoc, Fuery and Falman will take second watch, sir. I shall be here until we switch at 1 a.m., as will sergeant Breda.’

‘What about Al?’ Ed asked, noticing for the first time that his brother was not sitting at any of the desks. ‘Where’d he go?’

With a glance at the clock, Hawkeye narrowed her eyes. ‘He left with Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes about twenty-minutes ago. There was something he wanted to see in intelligence.’ She gestured to another set of blankets nearby. ‘I thought it would be best if Alphonse slept here, so that we can watch over him. He may be of no use to Danner as a bond-mate, but he is still the most reliable bait to get Edward’s attention.’

A chill shot down Ed’s spine, cooling his blood as he felt his face turn pale. He had been so obsessed with Roy’s safety that he had completely failed to consider that Danner might grab Al a second time. What better way to force Ed to play right into his hands?

‘You did well to think of Alphonse, Lieutenant,’ Roy said softly. There was warmth in his voice, but something else as well: the dark shadow of guilt, as if he blamed himself for absorbing so much of Ed’s focus. ‘We'll get some sleep while we can, but please let me know of any developments.’

Ed followed numbly in Roy’s footsteps, barely aware of moving from one room to the next. His head was brimming with jibbering, shrieking uncertainty. Even after all this time there was so much they did not know about Danner and his methods. How were they meant to stay one step ahead when they were always in the priest’s shadow?

For the first time in his life, Ed knew what it felt like to feel beaten before the battle had even begun.

Roy called his name, and Ed looked up to see him bathed in the dim glow of the muted office lights. The blankets had been taken from his unresisting grip, and now they lay in a welcoming nest in front of the fire, bathed in the amber dance of the flames.

‘If you’d rather have the couch, I understand,’ Roy murmured, and this time Ed could see a different kind of doubt on Roy’s face — one that had nothing to do with Danner; it was about the two of them, no one else.

It was strange to see him look so insecure about anything, and Ed shook his head in a sharp motion as he tried to smile his reassurance. Yet the gesture was weak, stiff on his face, and after little more than a heartbeat he closed the distance to wrap his arms tight around Roy’s waist.

The embrace was instantly and unquestionably returned, and in this, at least, there was belief. If nothing else, they had faith in each other.

‘Come on,’ Roy urged him gently, brushing his hands up Ed’s mismatched arms as if he were made of glass, rather than flesh and steel. ‘Take off your boots and climb in.’

Normally Ed would have snarled at being told what to do at a personal level, but now he did not have the strength. All he wanted was to be safe and warm in Roy’s arms, locked away from the threats that circled them. It was that desire that allowed him to obey, meek with exhaustion as he toed his way out of his boots before settling into the depths of the coarse, dense nest of fabric.

Removing their clothes was a pointless endeavour, especially when they could be called back to action at any moment. Roy had taken off his jacket and shoes, but white cotton still rasped beneath Ed’s palms as he shuffled close. Sex was the last thing on his mind, and the bond told him that Roy felt the same. This was about something deeper than passion: the simple act of giving and receiving comfort without uttering a single word.

His fingers caught in the snarl of cotton that held the lower half of Roy’s shirt together, and something jolted in Ed’s chest. That morning seemed like an eternity ago. It was as if he had somehow left every hope for the future back in East city, and all that remained was the hollow fear. Even anger, always at his side and the fuel in so many of his fights, seemed to have deserted him.

Only the gentle brush of Roy’s bare palm over the crown of his head brought him any warmth, and it was a star-distant sensation. He could not guarantee that he and Roy would come out of this alive. He should be used to that by now. There was nothing certain about his battle for the Stone, after all, but still all that felt as if it had been in his control.

Never before had he felt so helpless.

Roy’s legs shifted, twining through Ed’s own and hooking him closer as he murmured, ‘Want to talk about it?’

Stiffly, as if his neck was made from rusted iron, Ed shook his head, letting out a sigh as he pressed his forehead to Roy’s shoulder and forced his eyes closed. ‘It’s nothing new, just the same things going around again and again. I can’t — I can barely hear myself think over it.’

He did not need to specify what he meant. Roy knew he was talking about the fear that had taken root in them both, choking out everything with bramble vines of doubt. Roy could not deny he was caught in its grasp, especially when Ed could feel the tense, hard ridges of the muscles in his chest and the soft tremble of his hand as he stroked Ed’s back.

‘Can you sleep?’ Roy asked, pressing a tender kiss to Ed’s temple. ‘Maybe in our dreamworld we’ll be able to see things more clearly.’

It sounded like a weak hope, but Ed doubted he could stay awake if he wanted to. Despite the fevered frenzy of his mind, his body was steadily shutting down, drugged and lethargic by the warmth of the office and the stretch of Roy’s body at his side. He reached up, stilling Roy’s hand in his hair and pulling it away to twine their fingers together: a lifeline of physical contact as the darkness began to close in.

‘See you there.’

The room melted away, the warmth of the fire becoming brazen sunlight and the crackle of the logs in the grate turning into the soft whisper of barley. However dark the real world, this one remained eternally bright, and Ed felt the thick shroud of dread fall away as he opened his eyes to see the cobalt sky.

It was flawless here, unnaturally so. There was always something nagging at the back of his mind, reminding him it was all in his head, but that never made it any easier to leave. Especially now, when all he wanted to do was stay here at Roy’s side and bask in the heat all around them.

Worries and fears became crystallised into something rational; they had form, and he felt more able to rake over their coals. In here, Danner was not such a threat, and with a little effort Ed could almost forget that the priest had ever existed.

He was not sure how long he lay there, allowing himself to enjoy the simplicity of the sun on his skin. It was as if every concern had been placed to one side, still there, but distant enough to be studied objectively, and with each breath he felt some of his confidence begin to return. They could do this.

They had to do this.

Finally, he became aware of Roy watching him, and Ed glanced sideways to see him propped up on one elbow, studying his face as if he were drinking in the sight.

‘Perfect,’ Roy breathed, and Ed knew that it was him, rather than their landscape, that was the focus of Roy’s praise. He was watching him with burning eyes, not just passionate, but protective of what they had finally managed to find. Ed knew the word for it – this intoxicating blend of emotion – but even here, in this sanctuary, he could not quite bring himself to say it out loud.

‘You have a fucked up idea of perfection, Mustang,’ he growled, but there was no bite in his words as he reached up and grabbed Roy’s open collar, tugging him downwards and nipping at Roy’s mouth. Instantly, those tempting lips parted, allowing Ed inside, and Roy’s rumbling purr of pleasure only intensified the shiver of delight caused by his eager response.

Roy finally broke the kiss, his breathing rapid and uneven as he brushed a thumb over Ed’s swollen lips. He looked like he wanted to say something, and Ed’s heart skipped hard in his chest, but a thunderous roar broke across the barley, making them both turn towards the distant horizon in confusion.

The tempestuous clouds were still a long way off, far across the lapping sea, and Ed parted his lips to question whether they had imagined it. Before the words could line themselves up on his tongue, the sound came again, and this time they recognised it. Not thunder, but someone banging on a door.

A splinter of reality was all it took for the dreamworld to collapse, and Ed sat up in the nest of blankets, groggy and disoriented as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Roy had already stumbled upright, clumsily yanking on his jacket and shoving his feet into his shoes as he shook his head, no doubt trying to clear the same haze of confusion that held Ed in its grasp.

Sudden waking from that place was not easy. Ed's eyes kept playing tricks on him, and visions of gold and blue still wavered in front of his eyes as he scrubbed his hands over his face. The clock over the mantelpiece said they had only been asleep for twenty minutes or so, and Ed groaned. He had just staggered to his feet when Roy opened the door, and Hawkeye’s urgent voice drifted through the air.

‘Sir, Deputy Inspector Anders is here. She and the Chief think they have found Danner’s hiding place. She needs us immediately.’

Hope lit the room, burning away the lingering shreds of tiredness as Ed shoved his feet in his boots and hurried to Roy’s side. One look at Roy’s face was enough to show that bleary eyes had become bright and alert, and Roy was already tugging on his gloves as he stepped into the outer office.

‘It seems the Chief Myers works quickly, Detective Inspector,’ he said, inviting her to provide information without asking a single question.

Anders’ eyes were bright with jubilation as she nodded, her usually professional stance forgotten as she paced back and forth. ‘He is superb at what he does,’ she replied, her admiration clear. ‘A few days ago we became aware of some suspicious activities not far from here. It was the occasional civilian complaint, nothing to cause undue concern, but in the course of our investigations it became clear that something more ominous was going on. People coming and going at strange times of night, odd lights in the windows, that kind of thing.’

‘Have you seen Danner?’ Roy asked. ‘Do you have visual confirmation that it’s his hiding place?’

‘No, but in the past few hours of surveillance we have seen more than one disciple in the area. The chief has requested backup from you and your men before we begin our operation.’

Hawkeye was already checking her gun, her expression professional and calm as Breda waited for orders. Ed could practically hear the gears changing in Roy’s head, taking in all the possibilities as he thought his way through the best way forward. He wanted to believe they had found Danner — that this was all coming to an end — but the police had made mistakes before.

‘Breda, get Hughes and the others,’ Roy said at last. ‘Hawkeye, Ed and myself will accompany Anders to —’

‘Lansdowne Crescent,’ Anders supplied, nodding stiffly at the others’ surprise when she mentioned the nearby street. ‘Right under our noses the whole time.’

‘Find us there, sergeant. We’ll make no move until all my command are present.’ That last part was directed to the Deputy Inspector, who ducked her head in acknowledgment. ‘If this really is Danner’s hide-out, then we can be certain he’ll be prepared for us. We cannot afford to act on impulse.’

‘We already have men watching the building and gathering all the information they can about the number of people inside.’ Anders gestured towards the door, clearly eager to be moving. ‘The Chief is not about to let this man get away again, General Mustang. He’ll take all necessary precautions to ensure this is the last time we have to worry about Danner and his followers.’

Breda took off as they entered the corridor, and Ed knew that he would round everyone up and be right on their heels. Part of him wished Roy would wait, but the air was charged with an intoxicating mix of excitement and uncertainty. If nothing else, they needed to see this place for themselves. They would not act until they had the men they needed to pull it off, but it was better to make sure this was not another dead end before they went in with guns blazing.

Ed’s heart pulsed in his throat as he strode along at Roy’s side, marching through silent corridors and out into the cool night air. He had no idea what time it was, but the moon hung fat in the sky, and Central’s urban buzz had quieted to a whisper. Their steps were loud in the peace, and when Hawkeye hesitated near one of the cars, Anders shook her head.

‘The chief has discreetly sealed off and evacuated the area: we claimed a gas leak, but if this comes down to a firefight we don’t want any civilians in the way. It’s a short walk, and a military car would be out of place.’

‘Isn’t Danner going to notice that all the houses around him are empty?’ Ed asked, not bothering to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He could respect Myers’ intention to keep Central’s innocent population away from the risk, but it meant Danner was probably already aware of what was going on.

‘The evacuation was subtle, and took place in several stages after nightfall. Once the residents were clear, we made sure that the houses still appeared occupied. Lights left on and cars in driveways.’

Ed pursed his lips, sharing a quick, meaningful glance with Roy, who shrugged. In this case, they would have to trust the judgment of the police, even if they had their doubts about the effectiveness of their actions. It would be easy enough for Danner to see through the thin veil of deception and realise that something was amiss. All they could do was hope that the man was too absorbed with his work to spend time studying the world beyond his windows.

The chill of the night danced over Ed’s skin, and he fought back a shiver as he followed in Anders’ neat footsteps, half-listening as she continued to explain the situation to Mustang. They walked along empty pavements before turning the corner into a barricaded street. It was dimly lit and unguarded, and Ed looked up as Anders hesitated, seeing her brow knit into a faint frown.

‘There was a traffic officer here when I left. Nothing that would raise eyebrows, just someone to answer questions — in case anyone got suspicious.’ Her eyes scanned the empty street, and Ed found his gaze drawn to the dense, dark shadows between the streetlamps, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

Anders shrugged. ‘I’ll talk to the Chief about it in a minute. Could be the situation’s changed.’ Her voice sounded confident as she walked on past the barricade and down the street, but Ed noticed that her frown remained.

Suddenly, every shadow was a threat and every breath of wind seemed to carry murmurs he could not pick out. Perhaps the police were hunkered down somewhere, trying to stay out of sight, but Anders was getting slower and more uncertain, her face now pale in the gloom. She lifted her chin, shaking her head as the breeze whistled along the street.

‘Something’s not right. I think it’s best we head back to the barri—’

The gunshot rang out, punctuating the night. Instantly, Ed dove for cover, dragging Roy after him as Hawkeye leapt for the shelter of a nearby alley-mouth, her gun little more than a gleam in the darkness.

Anders hit the ground with a thud, her body twisted like a ragdoll from the force of the bullet. Her eyes were closed, but Ed could already see the blood pooling beneath her, seeping out from a wound in her chest. It had not been a clumsy shot. Whoever had fired it had her square in their sights: one bullet, as if any more would be a waste.

Roy’s breath panted in Ed’s ear, and the bond hissed and snapped between them like a living thing, startled by the threat. ‘Did you see where the shot came from?’ Roy asked, cursing as Ed shook his head. ‘We need to get out of here.’

‘Don’t try running, General,’ a mocking voice called out. ‘There’s nowhere to go.’

Myers stepped forward into the pool of one of the streetlamps, the light gleaming off the badge pinned to his cap. The gun in his hand was steady, and the barrel pointed directly at the alley where Hawkeye was taking cover opposite them. As he approached, Ed picked out other shapes along the street: a grey robed crowd moving like a bank of fog. Their pale faces stood out in the darkness, and a quick glance back towards the barricade made Ed spit a curse.

‘They’re cutting us off. Twenty, maybe more.’ Sweat pricked along Ed’s hairline, itching fiercely as the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end. ‘We can’t even go over the rooftops. There’s no shelter to get up there. They’ll pick us off as we climb the walls.’

‘Then we fight our way out,’ Roy growled, flexing his hands inside his gloves. ‘He seems to have forgotten that we’re more than just soldiers. He thinks Hawkeye’s the threat.’

Ed nodded, pressing himself deeper into the shadows. They were sheltered here by the protruding wall of one of the buildings, blocked from Myers’ direct line of sight, but the man still knew they were there, and so did the disciples. They were like a pack of dogs at both ends of the street, waiting for the moment someone made a move. Ed knew there would be alchemists among them, but they would have to stop and draw arrays — he and Roy would be quicker. In that, at least, they had the element of surprise.

‘Wait for it...’ Roy urged as Ed held his breath, hearing Myers' boots scuff to a halt. He could just make out the man’s shadow falling over Anders’ prone form, caressing her in some sick, violating embrace. It was impossible to see the expression on Myers’ face, but Ed doubted there was any grief for the woman under his command.

‘Stupid bitch,’ Myers muttered, prodding Anders’ shoulder with the toe of his boot. ‘I always said your trust in others would be your downfall. You didn’t even see me coming.’

‘Now!’ Roy hissed in Ed’s ear. The snap of his fingers was like a thunderclap as a wide banner of flame arced across the street. It roared upwards in an inferno of a wall, cutting off over half of the disciples and leaving them to howl and curse – useless beyond the iridescent barrier. The fire writhed like snakes, searing the damn night air as it danced one way, then another, led by Roy’s skill as he created a blazing labyrinth across the street.

Immediately, Ed surged forward, slamming his hands to the tarmac. Power shot along his arms, roiling through the pavement as the stonework bucked and rumbled, spearing up towards the sky. He could hear shouts of anger and confusion, but it was Myers’ cry of pain that cut towards him like a knife, and Ed looked up to see the chief’s gun clatter to the floor.

Hawkeye must have taken advantage of the chaos to shoot, but her bullet had gone wide. He had no doubt the lieutenant meant to kill Myers. Instead he clutched his bloody wrist, cursing and snarling before he fell to his knees and began to search the ground around Anders’ body for his weapon.

Ed moved to stop him, but Roy got there first, driving Myers back with one gout of flame after another. He did not have the strength to keep the other disciples at bay and kill Myers. All he could do was chase him back. The fire singed hair and reddened skin, but all the while Myers distaste could still be seen, and he turned to start shouting incomprehensible commands at the disciples as Hawkeye lunged forward, racing over to stand at Roy’s side.

‘What’s the plan, sir?’ she panted, her hair sticking to her face as the belting heat of the fire made her sweat. Roy was no better, pale-faced with concentration, and as Ed watched he could see those disciples capable of alchemy scrawling on every surface they could find.

‘Aim for the alchemists!’ he ordered, his voice hoarse in his throat as Hawkeye obeyed, not waiting for confirmation from Roy. The shots blazed through the air, whipping through flame and smoke to leave spirals in their wake. Some found their targets, folding grey robed figures in two or snapping their heads back, but more than one struck sparks off the buildings nearby: useless ricochets.

Somewhere, another gun fired, and Hawkeye gasped in pain as a bright red line opened up across her cheek. The bullet whizzed harmlessly over Ed’s head, but if he had been standing up rather than crouching on the pavement...

‘No more gunfire!’ A familiar voice called out, each word laden with authority. ‘That is not how it must be done!’

Rage ignited in the pit of Ed’s stomach, coating his throat in bile as Danner stepped forward. Amber gleamed from his pale skin and reflected in his eyes, but there was no fear of Roy’s power there. Instead, two alchemists hurried along at Danner’s side, flanking his robed form. Feverishly, they snuffed out the fires as quickly as Roy could ignite them. The arrays branded on their hands were half-healed, damp with weeping fluids as they exposed their palms to the air and tore the gases away from Roy’s grasp.

The air was turning thick and breathless – humid with sweat and fear. Ed could feel the bond shaking with Roy’s efforts as he struggled to balance and adapt, but it was a losing battle. Danner had expected this, and had prepared for it.

‘Make noise,’ Roy gasped, an exhausted sweat slicking his hair to his head. ‘Light, destruction... anything to draw people’s attention. Maybe we can change the odds.’

Before Ed could acknowledge him, a blast of power rolled over them, knocking Ed over as Roy shielded himself with his arms. It was a distraction, that was all. There was no bark or bite to the alchemy, but it cost them precious seconds. Like extinguished life, the remaining fires vanished, leaving nothing but embers and smoke to indicate they had ever existed at all.

Immediately, the disciples surged forward, no longer in ranks but a rag-tag crowd. Hawkeye’s warning shout made Ed turn, and he saw the others, the ones who had been shut out beyond Roy’s wall of flame, rushing inwards like an unforgiving tide. The battle had turned, and dozens of ideas flared and collided in his head as he tried to think of a way out of this mess.

In the distance, the wail of a siren cut through the air. Within seconds another joined it, and another. It was a far off sound, but even as they faced overwhelming odds, Roy and Ed shared a feral grin. They did not need to speak to know what one another was thinking. Help was on its way. All they had to do was survive.

Power rushed along the bond, bright and blinding as it turned the newborn flames in Roy’s hands crystal white. Icy blue burst along the ground, creating defensive walls, deep pits and cruel spike as Ed threw his all into the earth, letting it show his fury loud and clear to all those who came to close. Disciples died; it was unavoidable. The situation was too dire to take prisoners, and Ed would gladly bear the haunting cries of agony if it meant getting through this alive.

Hawkeye had lunged forward to grab Anders’ truncheon, discarding her empty guns as she fought with the brutal weapon. Disciples had her pinned near Anders’ body, but she held her ground, striking out with vicious force at anyone who got close enough. Before long she had wrested a gun from one of her attackers, and she wasted no time on picking off more of the disciples.

Roy was focussing on the fires, battling with Danner’s pet alchemists while the priest withdrew. Ed stood by Roy’s side, the Automail blade already sticky with blood as he lashed out at those stupid enough to try and take Roy out. Some dodged around the fires while others were incinerated, but Ed was waiting for them, ready to strike as the sirens grew steadily closer.

Although there were easily more than twenty men in the street, Ed knew they were not like the military. The loyalty driving Danner’s disciples was not as absolute as Danner would like to believe, and Ed saw several robed figures slink back into alleyways, clutching their wounds as they waited for the battle to subside.

Those that remained seemed unwilling to attack as a group, animal wary of Ed as he stood braced and snarling at Roy’s side. Had they really expected him to simply surrender? To hand himself over and let Roy’s life be forfeit? Suspicions sizzled in Ed’s mind, and he shifted back a little, taking a look around as he realised what was happening.

They were waiting for something.

A hand lunged across his vision, scraping down his face and opening the cuts from the night before. The man babbled apologies even as they grappled, begging forgiveness as he tried to bring Ed down. Smashing his elbow into the disciple’s face, Ed grimaced, watching two more step forward to fill the space.

It was a never-ending flow of alchemists and disciples, all of whom had to be kept away from Roy. Ed’s focus narrowed to only this: the bite and burn of the fight, his aching muscles, the blood on his fists. He could not watch Hawkeye or Roy, not if he wanted to keep going. If he faltered, even once, then it could all be over.

His head ached from too many blows, and nausea was starting to squeeze at his stomach. Dimly he noticed that Roy was shaking with the effort of his alchemy, and Hawkeye wove on her feet, punch-drunk and dizzy. The flames were getting smaller – weaker, and all the while the disciples continued to prowl like scavengers waiting for a mighty beast to die.

Was that what this was? Not a fight, but simply an endless attempt to wear them down? Ed gritted his teeth, snarling as another jaw broke beneath his fist. Why didn’t Danner face them himself? Where was he?

Ed’s eyes skimmed the flickering shadows, taking in the hellish scene as his blood ran cold. Danner was nowhere in sight, and something primordial arced down Ed’s spine at the same second as Hawkeye screamed her warning.

‘Sir!’

Ed whirled around, his heart almost dead in his chest as he realised they had been tricked. Danner had circled around behind them, taking advantage of their distraction. Now he was too close, and the world slowed down as Ed lunged forward, desperate to get between Roy and the priest.

There was no time for a punch or one final flame. Roy could not even raise his hands in defense as Danner struck, his palms pressing against Roy’s torso as the air filled with sharp, ugly light.

Power and pain consumed Ed’s body, suffusing the bond. The world waltzed as his heart thrashed in his chest, blazing and burning as it stumbled on its regular beat – too staggered, too fast, _too much_. He closed his eyes as his knees gave way, smacking hard into the street as his spine curved inwards, twisting around the agony that roared in his chest. Every breath burned, and with sharp brutality, like a wire under too much strain, the bond snapped.

A scream tore itself free from his mouth, shaking the air around him as a sick sweat broke out across his skin. Wounds opened up, not in flesh or bone, but in his soul, and he heard the heavy sound of Roy’s body hitting the floor.

Shouts, running footsteps, squealing tires. The cavalry was too late, and Ed did not even have the strength to fight as he was carelessly flung over a grey robed shoulder – jostled and bruised as Danner and his followers fled with their prize.

Finally, Ed managed to pry his eyes open. There, amidst the grey-robed fallen, he could see Roy’s white shirt. He was not moving, and Ed’s throat closed on another scream as he realised those dark eyes were open and unseeing, reflecting the dimming flames around him.

Roy was dead.


	24. Chapter 24

A bead of reality glimmered in Roy’s mind, chasing away the absolute of oblivion. Like a giant machine slowly initialising, his senses began to return, waking up to the world anew: antiseptic fragrance, coarse sheets, worried whispers…

_Agony_.

Hoary fireworks exploded along every nerve, arching his back and jerking muscles as if he were a marionette. His chest was suffused with heat, and a raucous melody of pain chorused beneath his ribs, swarming across his heart like insects. His lungs struggled for air as his body rebelled against the very concept of life, desperate to claw its way back into the velveteen shadows of nothingness.

Yet beneath the bright white gloss of physical discomfort, something else covered him in its noisome filth. It clung to his mind, opening up a vacuous torment: an empty chasm where the bond had once glowed, bright and whole, within him.

His arms flailed in panic, fingers questing for the body he knew must be nearby. Inarticulate cries — almost sobs — choked in his throat as strong hands tried to hold him back and press him down into the mattress.

‘Stop it, Roy!’

He should recognise the desperate voice — something in him knew it well — but the words had no effect other than to drag his eyes open to the bleak white of a hospital room. There were faces, but none of them were the one he wanted to see, and so he dismissed them even as his memories murmured something about friends. He was beyond the balm of familiarity, and right now these — these creatures were simply another obstacle in his path.

A young woman in a nurse’s uniform scurried forward with a syringe, paling as the gasping cry turned into a roar in Roy’s throat. For a moment the urge to burn her surged through his aching body, making his fingertips itch and tingle, but no flames leapt forward. He had no gloves, and the warmth of Ed’s alchemy, once so near and comforting, was dead and dark.

The needle pierced his skin, a bright star of sensation amidst a galaxy of pain. Yet in a matter of thundering heartbeats his struggles were weakening, falling lax as the sedative took hold. His clawing hands became too heavy to lift, and the pillow accepted his weary head as he slumped back: an innocent victim to the returning tides of unconsciousness.

There were more words, right on the edge of his hearing, but they made no sense. Perhaps they spoke in a foreign language, but Roy could recognise the tones of fear and heartbreak. Whoever they were, those people, they were terrified.

He knew exactly how they felt.

Despite the drug in his system, Roy’s body did not switch off from the world once more. Previously, it had been as if he did not exist. Death’s darkness had kept him safe from the harsh edges of reality. Now, the pain lingered on, hovering on the border of his fitful slumber. Roy could have borne broken bones or bleeding wounds, such things healed in time. However, it was not only his flesh that had been rent apart by violence, but his soul.

Once, the bond had formed a bridge, tying his being to Ed’s, both still whole, but greater for the union. Now, it was gone. All that remained was an empty abyss, and Roy’s shattered pieces lying at the precipice. Life felt as if it were draining away, dripping second by second to be lost in the eternal night.

Was this how Garrick had felt when Danner killed his wife?

No, no, because she was dead and Ed — Ed could not be gone. The bond may have been torn apart, but the man at its other end could not have been obliterated from the world. The very thought was too alien for Roy to understand, and so he forced it away, trying to put some distance between himself and the bleak, aching loss that threatened to choke the sanity from his mind.

Eventually, he opened his eyes again, keeping his shuddering, in-drawn breath as quiet as he could while he struggled to reconnect with his surroundings. Even the pain, as consuming as it was, could not occupy the full breadth of his mental horizon. Instead he lay still, trying to breath — trying to live when all he felt was dead inside.

His beating heart hurt with every thrum, and he vaguely remembered Danner’s palms on his chest in a gruesome parody of a lover’s caress. It had been gentle at first, and then the alchemy struck like a snake and the world went to hell. Roy remembered the bright whiplash of the bond breaking. Ed’s scream, more animal than human, and then nothing.

Roy’s guts clenched in a tight fist of grief, and he shifted onto his side, pressing his lips together as even that small bit of movement left him breathless and near tears of misery. His knees moved upwards towards his chest instinctively, his leaden arms clasping them close as he curled around the hollow space inside him.

Perhaps if it had just been despair, he could have forced himself to move past it, but the bond had taken too much with it when it broke apart. Roy had grown so used to the feeling of Ed at his side: a constant presence even when he was on the other side of the city. Now there was no ghostly warmth — no knowledge of a life entwined with his own. There was just emptiness.

Everything looked darker, as if tight walls had closed around him. Was this what life had been like before the bond? It was less than a fortnight ago that Danner had first linked them, but Roy struggled to remember a time when Ed had been in a separate sphere of existence, disconnected in every way.

Had it really been this lonely?

‘Roy?’

A shape moved in one of the chairs, and Roy narrowed his eyes as Hughes leaned forward. His uniform was rumpled and his hair stood up in all directions. There was a good growth of stubble on his face — more than normal — and his glasses were skewed on his nose. He had probably been sleeping, but Roy could feel nothing but apathy over his friend’s state. Ed should be in that chair, or maybe a bed nearby, but there was no sign of him, and the first, inky spread of earnest fear began to permeate Roy’s mind.  
  
‘Where is he?’

Hughes froze, his pale face losing what little colour it had at Roy's flat, hard tone. He did not need to ask for clarification, and Roy saw the noir bloom of dread in his friend's eyes. That quick mind looked as if it had frozen inside Hughes' skull. There was no sharp intelligence in his gaze, just a kind of dead horror that only deepened the well of anguish in Roy's heart.

‘Danner took him,’ Hughes managed at last, his throat pulsing as he swallowed. His lips parted again as if to offer excuses of reassurance, but he seemed to think better of it. His hands were clasped in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched Roy’s face for any kind of reaction.

He could not oblige. Roy’s features felt like a mask, stiffened by the turmoil that sparked through his body. Part of him had known it — had been aware from the moment that the bond had broken that Ed had been taken. Nothing else would stop Ed from being here at his side in person, of that Roy was convinced.

‘How?’

His voice cracked, dry and wrecked in his throat as he watched Hughes' expression. Reading people was instinctive, even when he felt like this: it was helplessness casting his friend's expression with an alabaster sheen.

'They grabbed him the moment you went down. Snatched and ran. Danner's alchemists blocked the pursuit with anything they could think of.' Hughes shifted in his chair, shaking his head almost to himself as his voice dropped to a murmur. 'We couldn't shoot at them anyway, not without hitting Ed.' He bowed his head, slicing his hand through the air. 'Giving chase was not an option. Danner's disciples threw themselves at us. It took all we had to fight them off and give Al space to work.'

'Al?' Roy’s blood felt too cold and his mind too vacant for anything but the crisp, hard shell of logic. 'Al should have gone after his brother.'  
  
'He was saving you!'

Roy flinched, watching the trembling man at his bedside. He had seen Hughes in many moods and states of mind, but this was something new. Normally, fear was hidden behind humour and mirth – Maes' way of coping – but now there was nothing like laughter in those green eyes.

'You were dead, Roy. Danner stopped your heart. If it wasn't for Al getting it going again and keeping it that way until we could get you here, you would never have opened your eyes again.' Hughes slumped back in his chair, his brows drawn in to a frown. 'Because of him, you're still alive.'

'But Ed's gone.' Roy closed his eyes, blocking out the sick look on Hughes' face as he reached up trembling fingers to the stinging skin of his chest. The cheap cotton of the hospital clothes scraped against it, stoking more nerves to a flickering life of pain. He remembered Danner's alchemy like a punch in the chest: a blast of power that had knocked his heart off its rhythm. Part of him knew that undoing that damage was no easy feat, but there was no thankfulness in his mind. How could he feel gratitude when he was consigned to a life like this? Broken and bleeding in ways no one but Ed could heal.

'How long has it been?' His whisper shook the air, a frightened bird of a question that hushed through the room on soft wings, but Hughes heard it all the same. A brief glance was enough for Roy to read the answer:

Too long.

'You’ve been unconscious for three days, sedated by the doctors. They were worried about your heart,' Hughes replied at last. 'We've not stopped looking – not for a moment, Roy – but we're running out of leads. We followed the blood trails as soon as we could, but they probably got in a car.' Hughes pinched the bridge of his nose, chewing on his bottom lip. 'I doubt they're still in Central.'

'They never were. There was no hideout in Lansdowne Crescent.' Roy swallowed, loathing himself for his own stupidity. Even after all he and Ed had known about the priest and his treacherous followers, they had still been too trusting. 'Myers is with him; he set the whole thing up to help Danner get his hands on Ed.'

A light tapping sound came from behind Roy, and he fought against apathetic, lethargic muscles to turn his head. Hawkeye and Al stood on the threshold. The lieutenant's uniform was rumpled, and her hair was coming down from its neat chignon. The dark shadows under her eyes were twins to those that rested on Al's pale face: bruises of worry and exhaustion, and Roy had no doubt that they had both paid no attention to any orders to rest.

'We found the bodies of more than a dozen policemen in a later search of the area, sir,' Hawkeye said, her voice quiet and calm, as if she knew he would find comfort in having all the facts. 'Myers betrayed many loyal officers that night, Deputy Inspector Anders included.'

'She's still alive.' Hughes' gentle reminder was softly spoken, as if they were not sure how much longer that would be the case. 'If Roy made it back, so can she.'

Al shuffled over to the bedside, his eyes searching Roy's face as if he were chasing down the answer to all the questions of the universe. Roy tried to meet the scrutiny with courage, but it only amplified the agony to a greater fever, playing tricks with his memory. Ed had looked at him in the same way more than once, and it was impossible to keep the grimace of grief from his face.

'Brother's still alive.' Al ducked his head for a minute, his jaw clenched painfully tight. 'He has to be. If Danner had got hold of that power, then the world would know it by now. Don't you – don't you feel anything? I thought...' he trailed off, scrubbing his hands over his face as Roy shook his head in slow, jerky motions.

'The bond is broken,' Roy whispered, lacking the strength to utter the truth with any more force. Besides, he did not want to believe his own words. That meant acknowledging the inky oil-slick of tragedy at his heart and the soul-deep wounds that felt as if they were bleeding his life away. 'The minute Danner touched me, it was gone.'

He waved a weak hand, wincing as the IV line he had not noticed before tweaked at his skin. 'Ed used to be right there. Now, there's – ' He let his hand drop back to the bed-sheet, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth against the rising lump of panic. 'Nothing.'

Al shook his head slowly, stepping back with over-bright eyes as he swallowed tightly. 'There's still hope,' he hissed, shaking visibly and looking painfully young. 'Just because the bond's gone doesn't mean Ed is too. You're acting like you think he's _dead_. Like the bond was everything, but it wasn't!'

'Al –' Hughes' stretched out his hand, waiting as Al sucked in a deep breath and bowed his head. 'I know you're worried, we all are, but we're doing everything we can. We'll find him.'

That last part sounded as if it was for Roy's benefit, rather than Al's, and he clenched his right hand into a fist beneath the sheets as he tried to find faith in those words. 'Let me up,' he ground out after a minute. 'I can't do anything if I'm stuck here in this stupid bed.'

The refusal was unanimous, and Roy grunted as Al and Hughes took hold of a shoulder each, pushing his weak body back down to the mattress. 'You must be out of your mind!' Hughes shook his head, looking a fraction less hopeless than a moment before. 'You were dead, Roy. You can't just get back up and start fighting again after that. Most people wouldn't get up from it at all.'

'Your heart's too weak, general,' Al pointed out, his voice cracking as he glanced at Hawkeye. 'A doctor should have been told as soon as he woke up again. They need to check on you. I had to keep pushing alchemical electricity through you to keep it beating. Your chest is burned, and your heart's probably not much better.' Al released him at last, hovering watchfully at his side as Hawkeye went in search of a doctor, her footsteps echoed away down the corridor. 'Danner was not exactly gentle.'

Roy coughed, feeling his lungs rattle in his chest and the bruised flesh beneath his ribs strike up a new refrain in their symphony of pain. 'He wanted to get it right.'

Al nodded, and for the first time there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. 'He didn't count on us putting you back together again. Ed asked me to look after you. I couldn't stop Danner doing what he did, but at least now you'll be here when we bring Ed home.'

He said it with rock hard confidence, but Roy knew it was an act. Fear lingered in the air like smoke, drifting on the gust of every breath. For three days Roy had been oblivious to the world, and the efforts of his men had turned up nothing. Ed had already been in Danner's grasp for too long, and they were no closer to freeing him from the priest's clutches. Although no one had said as much, Roy knew the truth of it: they did not even know where to begin.

‘I’m not staying here,’ he murmured, meeting Hughes’ gaze. ‘You know I can’t.’

Before anyone could respond, a white-coated man hurried into the room, snatching Roy's chart from the end of the bed and skimming through the notes as he began to speak, asking pointless questions about the pain and his mental clarity. Roy's answers were monosyllabic. It was impossible to care about his own health when Ed was in a far more tenuous position, and the doctor's increasing enthusiasm only made him scowl in annoyance.

'It's a miracle you are alive, General Mustang. If it was not for the quick-thinking of this young man, you would be in the morgue by now. As it is you'll need to stay here for at least a week, perhaps longer.' The doctor blinked in the face of Roy's unwavering stare before glancing back down at the notes. 'We need to monitor your heart and ensure that it has recovered sufficiently: no exertion, no excitement, no stress.'

Roy said nothing, flicking his gaze to meet Hughes eyes: brief and meaningful. Arguing with the medical advice, with or without the help of his friends. Maybe he was as clueless as the rest of them, but to lie here and let them continue their futile search alone was unthinkable.

The knot in his throat tightened: a hard lump of panic that made it difficult to breathe, and he fought to keep his voice steady as he finally pushed himself into a sitting position.

‘Thank you, Doctor, but I’ll be needing the discharge papers.'

He could sense the arguments building up against him, rumbling like mute thunder as the doctor's mouth hung slack.

'Are you deaf, General?' he demanded. 'I just said —'

'I heard what you said,' Roy bit out, keeping his face blank as his heart thumped and ached. 'Unfortunately I cannot follow your advice. I need to be in Central Command.'

The doctor flapped a hand, looking around at Al, Hughes and Hawkeye with beseeching eyes before shrugging his shoulders. 'We can transfer you into the care of the military medics if you wish, but you are in no fit state to be on active duty! Three days under medical sedation is not enough to recover from this trauma, General! You must rest!'

'No.' Roy wanted to close his eyes and slump back to the pillow, but that way lay disaster. If he did not move, he would be stuck here forever. He could feel his sanity wavering like a mirage in the desert air, falling apart as soon as he looked at it too closely. If he stayed in bed, a passenger of events, then he knew he would not come out of it with his mind intact.

'I'll be in the office, Doctor, under the watchful eye of my men. That's the best compromise I can offer.' He glared first at Hughes, then Al. They were the two most likely to argue against him, but he saw from their faces that they already knew it was a lost cause. They both looked at him as if they thought they were witnessing his last hours, but were powerless to make him see reason. Only Hawkeye's expression was more damning: she said nothing, but she did not have to. She thought he was being a fool, but she would still support him — loyal to the last.

'I'll get a car, sir, and a fresh uniform. May I suggest you spare the doctor an hour of your time? I'm sure there is some suitable medication he can give you.' She raised an eyebrow, and Roy knew it was more of an order than a suggestion. Finally, he nodded, clenching his jaw as the doctor leapt into action, calling out for a couple of nurses before stepping closer to the bedside.

'I'll get back to the office with Hawkeye,' Hughes told Roy, moving quickly to get out of the way. 'Al should stay here, since he knows more about what happened to your heart, and other things.' He glanced meaningfully at Roy's right wrist, where the array from the bond was still etched into his skin. 'By the time you come back, I'll have a full report for you, and we'll talk about this so-called “compromise”.'

He raised his eyebrows, shaking his head in the face of Roy's belligerent glare before turning away and delivering his parting words over his shoulder. 'I'm glad you're alive, Roy. Just try and stay that way, all right?'

Only once Hughes had left the room did Roy feel able to lean back into the pillows. The doctor's opinion did not matter. He could squawk and complain and do nothing to keep Roy inside these four walls. Hughes, on the other hand, could probably find enough willing volunteers to make sure he stayed put, and Roy barely had the strength to sit up, let alone sneak out of a guarded hospital room.

'You look terrible,' Al murmured, settling in the chair a short distance away as the nurses bustled around, taking Roy's blood pressure and making notes while the doctor sorted through some tablets. 'If you want me to wait outside, I can.'

Stiffly, Roy shook his head, swallowing weakly as a tourniquet was snapped around his arm and some blood drawn from the vein. It was strange to see it, gleaming dark claret in the vial. He could have sworn there would be nothing there for them to have but the sludge of life long-gone.

Surely he should feel the thrill of being alive, the exaltation and relief of slipping through death's veils and, thanks to Alphonse, being retrieved from their clutches? Yet it was as if he viewed the world at arm's length, no longer connected to the shell of flesh and bone that held him. It had become an inhospitable home, as if the presence of the bond had irrevocably changed the nature of his body and now, without it, his soul no longer fitted neatly within his frame.

'How did you know what to do to save me?' he asked, watching Al's face. The younger man looked pale and drawn, strung out thin by his fear. At first, Roy had assumed it was all for Ed. Alphonse had no reason to care for him after all, but now he noticed the way he was watching the nurse's movements, constantly vigilant, as if Roy's well-being held more meaning than simply helping a fellow man.

'The blades on Wood's fingernails were broad, and the cuts quite shallow,' Al began, lowering his voice when one of the nurse's gave him a puzzled look. 'They caught bits of the array, like a peeler taking off potato skin. I retrieved enough of the design to know it was electrical — the rest I put together myself. The heart's a strong muscle, but it needs its rhythm. Electricity interferes with the nerves and contractions and the wrong current can make it stop entirely.'

'And the right one can make it start again,' Roy murmured. 'So simple.'

Al rubbed at his eyes, clearly fighting off exhaustion as he gestured weakly towards the door. 'It's probably what Danner did to Garrick's wife. For some reason it seems he was looking for an alternative. That's why he was slitting throats, but in the end, he had to come back to what he knew worked.'

Roy paused, turning that thought over in the nest of glassy fragments his mind had become. It was easier to concentrate on the problem before him. Without focus all he had was the slippery sensation of his mental clarity running through his fingers. 'Maybe Danner knows there's a weakness to his design. Maybe he's aware that the death might not be so permanent?'

'Perhaps, General, but you're lucky. We were right there when it happened. You might have been officially dead for twelve seconds at most.' Al rubbed his palms together as he explained exactly how close Roy had been to not coming back. 'If I had still been in the car when you hit the ground, we might have made your heart beat again, but your brain would already have been damaged. So far, there's no sign of that.'

He looked to the doctor for confirmation, and the slender man huffed a breath of irritation. 'Without proper tests it's impossible to know, but he seems to have retained his faculties.' He began ticking things off on his fingers. 'Memory is present, autonomous reflexes appear unharmed, speech centers and other sensory regions seem to be functioning. I am assuming his personality has not changed.?'

Al hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Roy to catch the pause. 'He seems as normal as expected, given the circumstances,' the younger Elric said at last, giving the doctor a reassuring smile. 'We'll be certain to watch out for anything unusual and alert the medical staff at Central Command if necessary.' He glanced meaningfully at the clipboard clutched in the man's hand. 'Is there anything else you need?'

After a few perfunctory examinations, the doctor muttered his excuses, clearly not satisfied with such a difficult patient. 'I feel I must state again how unwise this course of action is. You are gambling with your life, General Mustang.'

Perhaps to most people that would have meant something, but right now Roy could see no value in his existence. Only the faint hope that there was still something left of Ed to rescue gave him any purpose, and it was a dim star, blinking in and out behind the clouds of his sorrow.

'Thank you, Doctor. I have taken your advice on board. The discharge papers?' He held out his hand, meeting the older man's brown eyes with an unflinching gaze. It was a trick he had learned years ago. Determination could go a long way to breaking down the opposition. After only a few seconds, the white-clad shoulders slumped, and the doctor turned the clipboard around and handed Mustang the pen.

'I hope for your sake that you're not over-estimating yourself,' he muttered, waiting for Roy to scrawl his signature before relieving him of the document. 'Very well, General. There'll be someone else who's grateful for that bed, even if you are not.' He handed Al a paper bag which rattled with every movement. 'Tablets to be taken four times a day. Take the first dose in a couple of hours, General, and keep using them until a doctor tells you it’s all right to stop. I'll have a nurse remove the IV line for you.'

Roy nodded, trying not to let his shoulders sag until the doctor had marched from the room. Even alone with Alphonse, he knew he should not let his weakness show, but there were some battles he did not have the power to fight.

'The medicine is all for your heart,' Al said, reading the labels with a knowledgeable gaze. 'Mostly they'll keep your blood pressure down and stop your heart working so hard. It needs time to recover.' He sighed, putting the packet back in the back and tucking it in the pocket of his coat. 'I know you don't care about yourself right now, General, but at the very least you'll need someone to check on your burns in a couple of days.'

Roy's fingertips went to his chest, and the high, sparking surface pain came to the fore. 'From you re-starting my heart?'

A nurse bustled in, interrupting the conversation and gently untaping the IV from the back of Roy's hand before pulling the needle free. A bright dot of crimson welled up and dribbled across his white skin, and she handed Roy some cotton wool, instructing him to apply pressure before she rushed away again, no doubt intent on a patient who actually deemed to stay in the hospital's care.

'The burns were already there when I got to you,' Al explained. 'I just made them worse. They'll need to be seen to.'

'Not as much as I need to get Ed back.' Roy sucked in a breath, wondering if Al noticed his slip. He meant to say "we", but frankly he was indifferent to how Al felt. Right now every reason for grabbing Ed back was self-serving. He needed Ed with all his being. Without him, he was not even half a man. Roy had always sneered at lovers saying that their partner completed them, but the bond had made that the simplest kind of truth. Without Ed, he was broken, and Roy was not sure how long he could survive.

Fears clouded in his mind, as challenging to seize as a swarm of insects, but their angry, panicked buzz was enough to make him push himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The world dipped alarmingly, and the pain beneath his ribs intensified, but Roy forced himself to keep moving, tentatively placing his feet on the floor before pushing himself upright. A dull ache exploded through his muscles, which all seemed to tremble like leaves in a gale. His next breath was almost a pant, and it felt as if a fist was clutching around his heart.

Al's hand on his elbow was unwelcome support, and he roughly pulled himself free, waiting for the pain to subside before limping towards the chair where his uniform lay. Hawkeye had promised to bring him a new one, but the thin hospital clothing only made him feel more vulnerable. No, he wanted the immediate reassurance of his uniform and his rank: he had to remind himself that he had been a whole man with ambitions and dreams before the bond had knocked over his world and changed his perspective. He needed to know that he could live like this again.

A tiny mirror on the wall made him pause, hand outstretched for his uniform. The bond had made him look younger. Only those closest to him had noticed the difference, but it had been visible. Now he expected the years to have hit him, carving their lines deep once more, but he seemed as young as he had before the bond was broken. Young, but dead.

His skin was always pale, but now it looked like chalk, utterly lifeless. His lips were white, and despite long periods of unconsciousness his eyes were bloodshot and shadowed. The stubble on his jaw was black, drawing a monochrome line across his skin. Yet it was when he met his gaze that he could see the loss of life. There was no light there, no gleam of hope or promise, just blank dark blue, staring back with the indifference of a man unable to process the enormity of what had happened to him.

His fingers finally brushed on the cotton of his shirt, the rough gnarl of Ed's impromptu repair chafing at his fingertips. It may as well have been a spear to his heart, cleaving through all the physical pain and ripping into his emotional core, shaking the shattered remains until there was nothing left but dust.

He wanted to find a dark corner, to curl up and sob until all the blackness inside had been expelled and the pain had gone, but it was a self-replenishing source. Agony welled up from the chasm where the bond had once been, flowing thick and cold through his veins until every breath trembled with the effort. One caught in his throat, a wretched gasp that spoke of more than tears ever could, and he pressed a palm to the wall as his knees threatened to buckle beneath the onslaught.

Someone guided him to the chair, forcing him to sit on the already crumpled pile of his uniform. He assumed it was Al, but he was too blind to lift his head and check. No tears fell, but Roy knew that was because this grief went beyond mere weeping. It was too deep for such simple relief, and too fundamental to be eased by such a biological response. Instead all he could do was bury his head in his hands, trembling and almost retching on his sorrow as Al clutched his shoulders, whispering inarticulate words of comfort: a constant tether to the real world.

Eventually, the tremors weakened, more from the frailty of his body than the lessening of his mourning. After what could have been an eternity, he lifted his head, realising Al was crouching down in front of him, hands still firm around his shoulders like a strong foundation holding a crumbling tower.

'We'll get him back,' Al promised, raising his eyebrows as if daring Roy to challenge his statement. 'I know you said the bond is broken, but I don't believe it can all be gone. There must be something left — something that can help.'

'Garrick...' Roy began, pulling in a breath as Al shook his head fiercely.

'This is different. Garrick's wife was dead. You're not, and I don't think Ed is either. That's not happened before. No one knows what that might do to a bond — broken or not — not even Danner.' Al straightened up, glancing back at the bed before holding out a hand and pulling Roy to his feet. 'There must be something left that we can use.'

Roy bowed his head, not wanting to crush the frail orchid of Al's hope. He wished he could explain, could somehow articulate the complete absence of life where there had once been a thrumming, pulsing tether of power, but the words were lost to him. 'Hughes is more likely to lead us to Ed. Somewhere there must be some kind of clue — some connection that can give us somewhere to start looking.'

Al shifted his weight, turning his back as Roy started to clumsily peel off the hospital clothes. 'I don't know if we have that much time. It's already been a little over three days. Whatever Danner's doing, he knows we'll be trying to find Ed. He won't hang around longer than necessary.' The scrape of Al's boots on the linoleum floor hinted at his uncertainty, and Roy paused in the act of pulling on his trousers as Al continued in little more than a whisper. 'Besides, Mr Hughes has barely slept since the day you died. He's not been home to see Gracia or Elysia, and he's still coming up empty-handed.'

Roy sighed, propping his weight against the wall before forcing himself to struggle into his shirt. The cotton chafed against the raw skin of the burn on his chest. The nurses had debated dressing it, but had decided it would benefit from being left to the air. Roy had his doubts, but there were more important things to worry about now. Al was right; time was running out.

If they were going to get Ed back, then it had to be fast.

'Where are my gloves?' Roy asked, digging his hands in his jacket pockets and finding them empty. It was a small detail, but an important one. He felt naked without them, and a quick, clumsy scan around the hospital room proved them to be conspicuously missing. He glared at Al when the younger man cleared his throat, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck before shrugging.

'Lieutenant Hawkeye has them. When you woke up the first time you were —' Al paused, biting his lip before ploughing on. 'You weren't yourself, General. We were worried that you wouldn’thave any sanity left when you came around again. It was decided that we shouldn't let you have any weapons. Sorry.'

Roy clenched his jaw, wishing he could refute that accusation, but it was painfully close to the truth. He barely felt in his right mind now, existing in some strange, bleak plain where all his priorities faded to nothing. Only one remained, a baleful red star in his mental landscape: find Ed. He could not be sure that, at some point, he would not decide to simply destroy anyone who might get in his way, regardless of their allegiance.

He grunted, not bothering with a response as he headed towards the door. Roy wanted to march, to show the world that he was still the same strong man he had always been, but his body betrayed him. Each step felt like a gargantuan effort, and breathlessness was a constant state of existence.

'Go slow,' Al urged, holding on to Roy's jacket sleeve and pulling him back, forcing him to take things steady. At Roy's dark look, he smiled weakly. 'If you collapse in the corridor, the doctors will put you straight back in the ward.'

Mutely, Roy bowed his head, reluctantly doing as Al suggested, pacing slowly through the blankness of the hospital towards the outside world. The stench of antiseptic was oppressive, and the air was full of the quiet sounds of the struggles for life. Roy had known he was in Central's civilian hospital the moment he had come to his senses, and he found himself cringing from the realm of tragedies all around him. Military hospitals did not permit weeping relatives or worried onlookers unless they were in uniform, but here there were too many people, all enduring the worst days of their lives.

_Just like you_.

Roy tried to ignore the inner voice, but reasoning with himself was a lost battle. He tried to remember that he had been saved. He was one of the lucky ones, even if he did not feel like it, but the thought was a meaningless platitude in the empty, cold cavern of his mind.

By the time he reached the front steps, he felt numb to it all. The pain that ricocheted around his body could be observed from a distance, pushed away by the toxic black swirl of his mind. His heart hurt, his body was too frail and the first lungful of clean air burned all the way down, but they were living sensations, something with which he could not connect.

Roy blinked at the dark car pulled up to the curb, taking in Hawkeye's worried frown as he made his way down the steps. A few days ago he would have trotted down without a care, but now he clung to the rail and watched precisely where he was putting his feet. It would be all too easy to be a victim to his fading flesh, but that was not option.

He would keep going until he had Ed back in his arms, safe from Danner's clutches. His last breath, the last plagued beat of his heart — whatever the cost, he would pay it. Now he had a job to do, and he was damned if he would let something as inconsequential as his own fragility stand in his way.

The passenger door clicked open, pushed from the inside, and Roy slid into the seat next to Hughes. Normally he would have sat in the passenger seat, but no one commented on the change in routine, and Roy tried not to sigh as the uncomfortable seat cradled his quivering body. It took a minute for his breathing to return to something approaching normal, and he subtly wiped the patina of exhausted sweat from his upper lip.

'You shouldn't be on your feet,' Hughes growled, folding his arms and glaring at Roy in the late afternoon sunshine. ‘You’ll give yourself a heart attack.’

Roy had no doubt his best friend could see the way his pulse thrummed in the hollow of his throat, and the sheer effort it took to stop his head from lolling back in defeat. Argument was futile, so he turned to look out of the window, pretending to examine the sun-drenched streets as they navigated their way through the rush hour traffic.

Hughes sighed, but it was a tired, tight sound, barely a whisper on the edge of Roy's hearing, and it was quickly lost behind the weary drag of his voice. 'I've got all my men working on looking for Ed. We're reviewing everything, questioning the prisoners, searching the scene, but an investigation like this takes time. Marlow's still trying to organise manpower and the police are leaderless...'

'Prisoners?' Roy honed in on the single word like a hawk spotting a mouse in the grass, turning to pierce Hughes with a fierce gaze. 'You caught some of the disciples?'

'You and Ed did your fair share of damage. There were plenty of dead, and some wounded. We locked up anyone who didn't have it in them to run away.' Hughes closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window as he carried on. 'Not that it's done us any good. They won't talk.'

'Some of them keep praying,' Al said from the front seat, and Roy caught sight of his puzzled frown in the rear view mirror. 'But not all of them. It's as if only a few of them believe in Danner's gospel.'

Roy nodded his head slowly, thinking back over the fight in the street. Ed had been at his side, fierce and furious, but his attackers had fallen into two categories. Those that were afraid of him, striking him while babbling apologies, and those that battled as if all their dreams depended on it. 'Where belief fails, there's always greed. I doubt Myers is in on it for the sake of his soul. Danner's probably made them promises about what will happen once his work is done.'

He thought back to Edil Park, to the people who had been standing at the array’s edge when it went off. There had been nothing human left of them but blood and bone when the power faded. Did Danner's disciples know that was what awaited them? Was that the believer's ascension, and the others were left to pick up the rewards like scavengers at a killing ground?

'Take me straight to the prisoners. Maybe I can't make them talk, but sometimes they don't need to say anything.'

Hughes straightened up, opening his eyes again as he nodded. 'Maybe the shock will shake their tongues loose. They think you're dead. We've been careful not to give them any clues to the contrary. As far as they're concerned, Danner's plans are proceeding nicely.' He snorted, a mirthless, derisive sound that spoke of too much fear and sleeplessness. 'Their only regret is that they're not there with their priest.'

Roy paused, feeling his mind begin to turn. It was slow going, as if his thoughts struggled through tar, but gradually they began to gather speed. 'Maybe there's a way we can put that to good use. Just let me deal with it.'

At last, the car pulled up alongside the steps up to the front door of Central Command, and Roy undid his seat belt as he braced himself to get out. His body whined at the thought of further movement, but his mind was resolved. He would drag his heavy heart, as broken and bruised as it may be, every step of the way.

Climbing out of the car, he shut the door, allowing his hand to rest on the cool metal work for a little longer than necessary as he summoned the strength to start walking. His knees felt strangely elastic and unreliable, and he gripped the handrail for extra support before making his way into the bland corridors behind the doors, wincing at the crowded space of Central Command.

At this time of day, many of the offices were emptying out. Their crisis was a personal one, and it left most of the military utterly unconcerned. Only Marlow's machinations could change that, and so far his efforts had clearly been fruitless.

One good thing about the crowd was that it forced Roy to stay close to the wall, giving him a little extra support without being noticeable to anyone but those close to him. Al and Hawkeye were at his back, their pace slower to match his own. Hughes walked at his side like a guard dog, scanning the bustle of people.

He noticed Roy watching him and shrugged, a weak smile perching on his lips. 'Don't want anyone else trying to finish you off.' With a flick of his fingers, he gestured for them to turn right, heading into a calmer section that lead towards intelligence and the nearby cells. 'I think going to see the prisoners straight away is the right call. Judging from people's faces, everyone in Central will know you're back on duty before the hour is up.'

'Then we'd better get started before someone spoils our surprise.' Roy reached out towards the door to the main cell block, hesitating when Hughes hand closed around his arm, a warm, firm pressure: shockingly alive compared to the clammy cold that seemed to have settled in Roy's muscles.

'The moment you start to look any worse than you already do, I'm dragging you out,’ Hughes promised. ‘I mean it, Roy. The only reason I let you leave the hospital is because otherwise you would have walked out by yourself and probably dropped dead in the gutter. If I thought there was a way to get Ed back without the prisoners’ help, I wouldn't let you in there, but...'

'But we need the information.' Roy bowed his head, carefully removing his friend’s hand from his arm before giving Hughes’ shoulder a rough, clumsy squeeze. 'I know. I can rest once I have Ed back.'

No one dared to ask what would happen if they did not succeed in their rescue. Perhaps they were afraid that it would bring the glass tower of Roy's strength crashing to the ground, but it hovered unspoken in the air like a blackened storm cloud, low and threatening over Roy's head.

Shoving his fears aside, he pulled the door open and stepped over to the threshold, sparing a nod of acknowledgment for the saluting guards before staring at the long, bar-lined corridor of the cell block. There were no pleading voices or angry shouts, just the sound of pacing feet and, further off down the corridor, the fervent murmur of someone bent in prayer.

'We put them in separate cells, but kept them close to each other,' Hughes murmured, gesturing to the guards. 'They're being watched. Sometimes people let things slip in their interactions with other prisoners, but so far there's been nothing.'

'Is there a leader? Any who are obviously more dominant than the rest?'

Hughes pointed to the cell three doors down, keeping his voice low as he filled Roy in. 'He's not said much, but the others defer to him. He's one of the ones that doesn't pray.'

Silently, Roy walked forward, stepping into the line of sight of the disciples trapped behind solid steel bars. He felt the shockwave of their surprise and horror, and sensed their certainty shake and crumble like ash before the wind. He was not meant to be alive. In one body he represented the possible failure of their plans where, before, there had only been the glow of victory.

They stared at him, silent. It was as if the very universe held its breath, and as he stopped outside the bars to the one Hughes had fingered as the leader, he saw the depth of the disciples reaction. Some of them were praying again, louder and more fearful this time. Roy listened, letting their words wash over him as he stared implacably into the cell.

Within its confines, the man stood like a statue, his grey robes falling from broad shoulders to skim on the floor. He was older than Roy, but not by much, well-groomed and intelligent from the gleam in his eye. It took a moment, but at last Roy recognised him, and his breath caught in his chest. Politics in Central were overshadowed by the military, but there were still civic leaders. This man, Daniel Audaine, was the deputy to one of the councilmen in the city. Yet here he stood, gazing at Roy with a sick, defiant horror.

There was a bandage around his hand, and Roy could guess it extended up his arm beneath his sleeve. He had been there on that street. He had fought against them, had watched Roy's death and seen Ed taken by Danner and his men.

Like a spark to a powder keg, the realisation exploded through Roy's body, banishing weakness and exhaustion as the full flare of his rage burst to life. These people, for their stupid, petty greed and naive ignorance had taken Ed from him, had stolen him away for their own malign purposes, and now they stood here, still living, still breathing, while inch by inch Roy was dying inside.

'Tell me where he is.'

Audaine was frozen to the spot, only a foot back from the bars. His pale face spasmed with emotion, but what the spinning roulette finally settled upon was something akin to a sneer. He tried to look superior, but Roy could see the way his hands were shaking and the sweat on the man's high forehead. He stank of fear, and something in Roy coiled, vicious and lethal.

'I will not.'

Roy did not even blink, he had expected no other answer, and now he did not care if Audaine had anything to say or not. He reached out, viper quick, thrusting his hand through the bars and seizing those greasy grey robes. It was so easy. Anger gave him strength, and one hard pull was enough to slam Audaine mercilessly against the unforgiving, narrow bars.

Bone crunched as the man shouted in pain, and blood dripped onto Roy's bare wrist, but he barely paid it any attention. Something was howling inside him now, wounded and seeking revenge. The human life before him was so fragile. How many more blows would it take to drive those fragments of broken bone into his brain? One, two? He had time for that. This man had helped take Ed from him — had supported Danner as he rent apart their entwined lives and left oblivion in its wake. What made him deserve the life that he held?

'Wait!'

Roy turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw a slender hand stretched out imploringly from the bars further along the corridor. He could not see the woman’s face, but he watched her fingers flutter, not coy, but almost begging him to approach.

With a rough snarl, Roy shoved Audaine back with all his might, ignoring the man's stumbling steps as he staggered back against the far wall of the cell. His fitful words about brutality fell on deaf ears, and Roy barely heard Hughes deny he had witnessed anything as he prowled onwards, surveying the woman in her little cage and feeling nothing but loathing.

'I can help you!'

'Shut your mouth, Isobel!' Audaine's voice was muffled, but the strength still made the woman flinch, her hands flying to either side of her head as if to shield herself from a blow. She was not like any disciples Roy had ever seen. On her knees on the cell floor, she was slender and short, with laughter lines creasing their way through her face, she looked more like someone's mother than a murderous follower, and Roy hestiated as he watched her raise her chin.

'No, Audaine,' she called back, the tremor in her voice ill-hidden. 'This is not how I was told it would be. This is not what I believe!' She leaned forward, her thin fingers clutching at the bars as she dropped her voice, her whispered words falling over each other in her haste. 'The father told us of a god. He spoke of sins forgiven, of benevolence, and I believed every word.'

A tear tumbled from her lashes, pocking a dark mark of sorrow on her robes, but she carried on. 'I didn't know he was killing people. I didn't know what he had planned. I think he meant to keep us away from the fight, those of us who were not blinded by our faith or our greed. He knew our conscience would interfere, but he had no choice.'

'What do you mean?' Hughes asked, his eyes intent as Isobel gave him an uncertain glare.

'Please,' Roy murmured, hunkering down in front of her so that they were on the same level. 'If you won't talk to him, talk to me. They took him away, stopped my heart to make it happen, and if I can't find him he'll tear himself apart to stop Danner from achieving his aims.' The first bite of tears struck his eyes, brutally sharp, and though he held himself strong and firm, refusing to let any fall, he knew that the woman saw the pain that lingered there.

‘Some tried to flee from Danner. We do not know what became of them,’ she said eventually. ‘Once word got out of what was happening — once the whispers grew too loud to ignore — we realised our mistake, but it was too late.' She glanced along the row of cells. 'We were too frightened to run. That's how I ended up in Lansdowne Crescent and saw what Danner was willing to do to achieve his ends.'

'You did not know any of it?' Roy asked, barely daring to believe her. 'You weren't at Edil Park?'

‘No.' Isobel shrugged, ignored Audaine's attempts to drown her out with mindless ranting and profanity. 'We found out later that many disciples died that night, binding you to the boy. I was not there. Myself and maybe one hundred others were left to watch the temple.'

'What temple?’ Roy leaned forward, desperately gripping the bars. ‘Is that where they've taken Ed? Is that where he'll be?'

Isobel nodded, her eyes misting with tears again as she clutched her hands into fists, shaking her head pitifully as apologies spilled from her lips. 'I wish I could tell you where it was, but they covered our heads — those of us not completely trusted. We were not permitted out, and when brought here they made sure we were blindfolded. We travelled by truck.' She took a deep, shuddering breath, and earnest grey eyes met Roy's gaze. 'But about five minutes from the temple, my blindfold fell off. They scrambled to replace it, but I managed to see a sign post: Bannock Bane.'

Geography flashed past Roy's eyes: a panorama of towns and villages, rivers and mountains. He had done his fair share of travelling as a major, and though sand and blood stained his time occupying that rank, there were greener places interspersed like emeralds, and a thrill shot down his spine as the name began to ring bells in the recesses of his fractured mind.

'West. They've taken him west.' He turned to Hughes, speaking his thoughts out loud as they gathered speed. 'A truck carrying that many people could not go too quickly. We're looking for somewhere within a four mile radius of that place. Bannock Bane's not very big. It barely shows up on the map, and a temple around there is something everyone would notice.'

'Roy, they called Edil Park a temple, remember? It was nothing of the sort. Just a house.' Hughes twisted his wedding ring around on his finger, his face crumpling as the truth of his words sank in deep. 'Let me see what I can do. Maybe I can narrow it down.'

'Is there anything else you can tell us?' Roy asked, leaning closer to the bars, ready to beg if he had to. 'Anything at all? What was the temple like? What could you see from the windows?'

Isobel shook her head, her chin wobbling again as she shrugged her shoulders. 'A big house, a lot of furniture covered in dust-sheets, apart from in the rooms Danner used for himself. Those he restored to their splendour. Most of the windows were shuttered.' She frowned, chewing on her lip as Audaine screamed again, a fierce roar that went completely ignored. 'All I saw were fields and trees, no other buildings, but there was a long gravel road. You could hear it under the truck tires for at least a couple of minutes.'

Roy looked over at Hughes and saw, for the first time since he had awoken, something like hope on his friend's face. Defeat was an ebbing tide, and when Hughes straightened up it was as if he was filled with renewed vigour.

'Bannock Bane is only an hour's drive from Central, if that. The roads that far out are still well-paved, so it's got to be a private estate.'

Roy allowed the breath he had been holding to flow out from his lips, a steady stream. The next time he inhaled, the air no longer tasted flat and dry. Instead there was an edge of life to it, something to give succor to his aching body. 'Thank you, Isobel,' he murmured, bowing his head in earnest gratitude. The woman had single-handedly given them hope where there was none. Now Roy could almost believe they stood a chance of finding Ed.

Doubt fluttered briefly in his mind, wondering about the truth of her words. She could be leading them in a false direction, throwing them off the scent to give Danner more time, but he was good at reading people, and there was nothing deceptive in Isobel's expression. Her cheeks were pale and her lips pinched with guilt and fear. She was still trembling, shying away from Audaine's bile, and several other disciples were giving her dark, hateful looks.

'Move her to a different cell block, one away from the rest of them,' he ordered one of the guards. 'Her cooperation is to be taken into account when the time comes to put the other disciples to trial.'

Straightening up, Roy felt the blood rush away from his head. His heart stuttered on its beat, and he swayed horribly as the room pitched and tilted. More than one pair of hands grabbed him, keeping him upright as the other disciples jeered. Hughes called for help, and before Roy could mumble any kind of platitude he was being half-led, half-dragged from the room with Hughes' hands firm on his shoulders, taking the burden that Roy's legs could not bear.

Once they were out into the corridor, empty and sparse now that most of the soldiers had headed out at the end of their duties, Roy leaned against the wall, pulling himself from Hughes grasp as he focussed on slowing the world's heady spin. 'I'm all right,' he managed, cracking one eye open and taking in Hughes' disbelieving stare. 'I got up too quickly, that's all.'

'Bullshit, Roy.' Hughes folded his arms, waiting patiently as the quickened breaths rattling in Roy's chest began to slow. 'You're going back to your office, you're going to lie on the couch, and you're going to get some rest.' He hacked a hand through the air, shaking his head before Roy had a chance to protest. 'It's that or the hospital wing. Your choice.'

Roy sighed. He itched to launch into action even as his legs longed to collapse, and he could not still the protest that formed on his tongue. 'I need to help find Ed.'

'One more person hunting through papers is not going to help, especially in your state.' Hughes held out a hand, subtly grasping Roy's elbow to offer support as they inched towards Roy's office. 'Your men are sharp enough to work while you rest, and I'm sure we'll find at least one Catticutt property around Bannock Bane. Let us do the legwork, Roy. One hour, that's all I'm asking.'

'You're not asking, you're telling.' Roy sucked in another breath, hating how even a sentence seemed to rob him of the air he needed. He jerked his head from side to side. 'I need to take that medication the doctor gave me. I'll feel better after that.'

Hughes grunted in disbelief, but he did not argue as they traversed the empty halls, pausing occasionally to allow Roy to regain some of his strength. With every step it was increasingly obvious, even to Roy, that he should not have left the hospital, but nothing in the world would convince him to lie back and let the others struggle to bring Ed home to him.

When the door to his office opened, Roy endeavoured to present a steady facade, but he knew his men saw right through it. Havoc shook his head and Breda rolled his eyes, striding over to open the door to Roy's inner sanctum. Yet despite their disbelief at his stubbornness, he could feel the sense of ill-disguised relief in the air, as soft as feather-down. They had been worried about him, and Roy only wished he could show them the strength required to put their minds at rest.

'I'll come and get you as soon as we have a target,' Hughes promised, relinquishing him into Hawkeye and Al's care. 'I assume I can take command of your men?'

'They're all yours,' Roy replied, wrinkling his nose as Al held out four different pills in his palm and Hawkeye handed him a glass of water.

At his longing look towards the coffee pot, the Lieutenant shook her head, clearly unmoved. 'I don't think caffeine is a good idea, sir. Alphonse and I will remain in the office and help Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes as best we can. There are pillows and blankets on the couch should you choose to use them.'

That was another order disguised as a request, and Roy gulped back the water and pills before relinquishing the tumbler and giving a grudging nod. He wanted to put up a fight, to argue that, weak as he was, he still had his uses. However, common sense over-ruled. He would rest now, confident in the belief that when the time came to leap into action he would be at the forefront of the charge.

He left the door ajar behind him, barely hearing the soft sounds of the busy office as he stared around the room. The last time he had been in here, Ed had nestled in his arms, voicing fitful fears as the vortex of events swirled around them. Now, on the other side of the worst kind of darkness, Roy found himself shaking in the bitter no man's land of hope and despair.

They had a chance of getting Ed back, but there was so much uncertainty, so many unknowns, that it was impossible to cling to that belief for more than a few seconds before being plunged back into the shadows of doubt. Roy’s uneven breaths worsened, and he was glad for the privacy of his office as he stumbled towards the sofa, collapsing into its comforting depths.

The pillow next to him released a hint of fragrance as he sat down: shampoo and machine oil, and Roy’s throat closed convulsively as he struggled to hold back tears. His arms itched to reach out and hug the pillow close, as if its thickness and the lingering scent of Ed could somehow staunch the poisonous flow deep inside him, but he held himself firm, toeing his way free from his boots and swinging his feet up onto the cushions. The pillows supported his head, and the blanket he dragged over himself captured what little warmth lingered near him, but none of it brought him the comfort he craved.

He could almost feel Ed’s embrace, strong and sure around his waist, but he knew it was only an illusion – a phantom conjured by the keening of his heart. Wearily, he drew his knees up to his chest, curling around the sucking black hole in his chest as he tried focus on the positive. Al thought Ed was still with them, unbound by Danner’s alchemy, and that meant there was still something left to save. If he could just hang on to that hope, then maybe he would have the strength to fight for it.

The clock ticked, marking the passing minutes, and Roy’s haggard breathing and tripping pulse steadily settled into something more normal. He barely noticed the lethargy take him, and only a dim thought that one of the drugs Al had given him was probably a sedative managed to permeate his consciousness before sleep closed in, dragging him under.

He landed heavily, the air rushing from his chest as the rain smacked him in the face. He could hear the sea hurling itself against the shore, and his baffled brain finally scrambled to an inevitable conclusion. This was the dream world, but gone was the sunshine and the deep blue sky. Summer had died, and the storm that took its place carved traceries of lightning across the sky. Thunder was a constant roar, rising and falling like a creature in pain, and the wind scoured over the hillside.

Roy struggled to his feet, staring around with growing horror. The barley was still there, but no longer did the stalks stand bright and tall. Blackened by rot, the sweet scent had turned pungent, almost alcoholic as the dead stalks gave themselves back to the earth. Torrents of water wound down the hill, joining in to small rivers, which in turn plunged into the furious sea.

The rain was soaking him to the skin, bringing the chill of the darkness at his core to the surface. His chest began to ache, and he shivered fiercely as he looked around, searching for some kind of shelter. He and Ed had found it so easy to create this world when they needed a safe place to sleep. Now Ed was gone, and the landscape had taken on all Roy’s darkness and misery. He had not even expected it to exist, but now he was trapped here, stuck in a wretched place of his own making.

Clumsily, he staggered up the hill. In all their time here, he and Ed had never felt a need to explore. The field and its golden crop had been perfectly hospitable. Now the hostile land forced him to move on, and he ducked his head, trying not to shudder inside as the cold closed in around him. Lightning flashed, one booming explosion in the sky after another, and Roy cringed from the wrath of the tempest. He had made this place, but something deep within him told him that nothing he could do would change it back to the way it once was — not until Ed was with him again.

Another bolt of bright light, accompanied by the stench of ozone, ignited the dreary world, and Roy froze, his foot hovering over something amidst the muddy broken stems of the barley. At first it looked like nothing, but when he bent down, the straight, brassy line of the bond glimmered. It was no longer thick with life, nor glowing with power. Instead it lay here, a broken fragment like some strange strand of glass. It was as if it had simply been dropped, and although there was no connection there, Roy could still see the straight line over the land that the remains created.

It was like following the pointing finger of a skeleton: a final message from beyond the grave, and Roy swallowed back the sharp knot of hurt that tried to clog up his throat. It was hard going. The churned ground sucked at his boots, and even here he was far from his best. His heart laboured and his breaths came in frail little snatches, and by the time he saw the firelight, he felt fit to drop.

For one brief moment, though, his weakness faded to meaningless, and hope overtook every other sensation. The cave mouth was set into the hillside below him, but he knew the golden dance of a campfire when he saw it, as bright as the sun in this dark world. Someone else must have been here to light it, and his heart soared as he stumbled downward, ignoring the golden, cobweb thin strands that snapped beneath his boots in his haste. All he could think of was that, in this world at least, perhaps Ed was safe.

The smile on his lips dimmed when he rounded the edge of the cave and peered into the empty hollow. Smooth rock offered shelter from the rain, and the fire hissed and sizzled when the occasional raindrop found its way in, but there was no sign of human life. Even the mud was smooth and unmarked: no one had set foot here except him.

He shivered hard as the chill descended once more, encasing him in its depths until not even the warmth of the fire could reach him. Roy’s strength was gone, worn away by that sudden burst of futile happiness, and he sank to the cool, dry floor within the cave’s grasp, easing down onto his side as he stared at the flames.

Their flickering dance was hypnotic, taking him away from the pain of loss and the ache of his body. Gradually, some of the warmth began to seep back through his skin, and sadness weighed his eyelids closed, easing him gently away from the rain and the roar of the storm and into a deeper, restful darkness.

Roy did not know how long he slept. Not even the pain disturbed him, and when he opened his eyes again it was to the warm visage of his office. Someone had stoked the fire and left the poker propped near the grate. The curtains were drawn, and a quick look at the clock told him they would be blocking out the darkness of true night. He had been out for almost eight hours, and his heart fluttered with unease as he propped himself on one elbow, wondering why no one had woken him with news.

His gaze fell on Hughes, who hovered on the threshold of his office, giving out brief, quiet orders. The noise beyond had changed, no longer restless whispers of paperwork shifting helplessly from place to place, but purposeful. He could hear Hawkeye checking her guns and a rustle of fabric, like someone packing a bag. If he’d had any doubt that something had changed, all he had to do was listen to Hughes’ assurance, firm and strong once more.

‘We’ve found him.’


	25. Chapter 25

Ed opened his gritty eyes, staring at the same rough stone ceiling that had greeted him for far too long. His arms ached, tethered as they were to rings in the floor by strong, solid bars. The cuffs around his wrists were padded, rather than brutal. No blood seeped from raw flesh, but that did not mean he was whole and unharmed.

Every time he drew a breath, it seemed that the image of Roy falling lifeless to the ground replayed in his mind, bright white amidst the darkened shadows of Danner's disciples. His guts ached and his heart broke itself into smaller and smaller pieces. The bond was shattered, wiped away in an instant, and all he could sense was a vast emptiness where there had once been so much light and life.

Roy had been right there, and now he was gone.

Screwing up his eyes, Ed fought back the bite of tears. He wanted to weep and scream and howl at the cocktail of rage and grief that still mixed itself within his veins, but he was running out of strength. Even something as simple as drawing breath felt as if it took more energy than he had to spare, and with every passing hour it only grew worse. He could barely lift his head any more, and the ravenous roar of his stomach had faded to a sulky grumble as its calls went unanswered.

A shiver tore over his skin, and he clenched his teeth as he waited for it to pass. He ached to have Roy's warmth by his side — to feel the solid beat of life within that broad chest — and the knowledge that such things were lost to him forever cut into him like a knife, pouring invisible blood over his skin. Apart from the ceaseless, empty ache inside him, he felt dead. He knew, in some way, that his body carried on, but none of it mattered anymore. He had failed to protect Roy, and because of that...

Closing his eyes, Ed tried to find the power to face the truth. He had no idea how long he had been lying here, stuck in an icy sheet of shock and grief. They had spoken to him, some of the disciples, but he could not recall what they had said. He was too lost in the labyrinth of his own despair, tangled in a web of blame and counter-blame until all he could sense was the deep well of oblivion where the bond had once been, dragging him down into its clutches.

How much more time did he have before he was lost? How much longer until everything he had to give had poured away and he was left drained? He kept forcing himself to try and feel something, anything other than the hollow pain, but emotions were beyond his reach. Even the tears would not come. They threatened, nipping at his eyes and blocking up his nose, but they never tumbled forth.

Had they buried him yet? Had Roy gone to rest in a dark hole in the ground, or was he still in the grasp of the morgue, cold and alone?

That thought exploded its barbs of anguish in his heart, making him groan in misery. The solid bars restraining his hands and feet clanked on the stone floor in unlikely harmony to his sorrow, and he barely heard the key turn in the door. Footsteps paced towards him, steady and measured, and when Ed opened his eyes it was to see Danner and Myers, both staring at him as if he was an experiment on a slab.

Heat flared through Ed's body, brought forth by the terrible inferno of rage. This at least, he could relish. The ice burned away, replaced instead by incandescent fury. Perhaps he had not watched Roy enough, or protected him from Danner, but it was those two bastards, the cop and the priest, who had conspired to rip Roy's life away.

'Such a mutinous expression, My Lord,' Danner murmured, brushing something from his robe before looking critically at him. 'Such spirit.'

'How much longer is this going to take?' Myers demanded, rubbing his thumb over his lip and glancing nervously towards the door. 'It doesn't matter if that bastard General is dead or not, his men aren't going to sit around doing nothing. If you don't hurry up, they'll ruin everything.'

'Don't be ridiculous. They have no clue where we are, and none of those we left behind know enough to give away our secret. We have plenty of time.' Danner reached out, pinching the skin on the back of Ed's hand. The pain was brief, but it was the spark to light the powder keg of anger, and Ed lunged forward, his teeth snapping sharply on the empty air where Danner's fingers had been.

Myers pulled back his foot, and Ed braced himself for the kick, but it never came. When he looked up it was to see Danner holding Myers back, shaking his head before nodding meaningfully towards the door. 'No. No harm's to come to him, or you'll be tearing us apart from the inside. The true believers out-number the rest of us now. We've lost too many who were in this for something other than faith.'

'What can they do to us?' Myers demanded, pulling free of the priest's grip and stalking over to the corner of the room. 'We have weapons and clear heads to go with them. You were meant to be keeping them blind with your babble.'

Danner looked down at Ed, and for a moment there was something there, a shared annoyance at how stupid some people could be. Even Ed, as tired and broken by grief as he was, could see what Danner was getting at. People with faith may start out as some priest's flock, but before you knew it they were an army, and their loyalties did not lie with their preacher, but with the god he had created for them.

Maybe that was something he could use.

'If we fail to treat the focus of their belief with respect, then they could turn against us. Some things can be disguised as ritual: solitude and fasting, but bruises will not be excused away.' Danner looked back at Ed, his expression calculating as their gazes clashed. 'It should not be much longer. I need him physically weak for the bonding.'

Ed snorted, his dry voice rasping up his throat like barbed wire as he spat, 'Fuck you, Danner. Like I'm going to let you near me.'

Cool eyes turned icy, and Danner hunkered down, just far enough away to be beyond the reach of biting teeth. Ed longed to lash out, but he forced himself to relax, doll-like and submissive, spread-eagled on the floor as the priest's words cut through him like the slow press of a knife.

'It's been three days since he died. Did you know that? Three days and no one has come for you. No food, a bare minimum of water... you're already dehydrated and starting to starve. How much longer do you think I will need to wait? How much longer do you think you've got?'

Ed snarled, hating the spin of his mind as he tried to accommodate that much time. They had drugged him in the car, subduing his blind struggles to return to Roy's side and stifling his howls of grief with the quick flash of a needle.

He had woken up here. The room was windowless, and there were no clocks: nothing to mark the passage of time, but he was not about to let the priest know how much that simple fact unsettled him.

'You should be asking yourself the same question,' Ed hissed. 'You think I'm going to lie back and let you do this? You think I'll go quietly, the same as all the others? If you're so desperate, then why even wait? Why bother fucking about?'

He noticed Myers lean forward, eager for an answer. The chief was impatient to receive his reward, and Ed hid a vicious, cold smirk at the obvious sign of his weakness.

'You must be more frail than myself, significantly so, or the bond will be in conflict.’ Danner replied at last. ‘Surely in the days you were bound to that — that man Mustang — you were aware of the power balance? One is always in charge, while the other is forced to submit.' He smiled mirthlessly. 'I have no intention of relinquishing my supremacy, My Lord. If you are weaker than me at the moment of bondage, then I will be the one in control, and I am not about to take any chances on that score.'

Ed rolled his eyes, but beneath his expression, the wheels of his mind were turning. The power struggles of the bond that joined him and Roy were fleeting, like a seesaw wobbling back and forth to find equilibrium. In the last days, when it was at its strongest, they had been perfectly matched. The bond was not a chain of slavery, but a web of enriching power, feeding them both and keeping them perfectly synced.

A realisation wormed its way through the shroud of grief and the heat of Ed’s anger, planting itself like a seed in the fertile soil of his intelligence. For all his years of study, Danner had never found the full potential of bonding another soul to his own. He had stopped looking when he had found the power he was searching for, and not bothered to explore beyond his own selfish aims. The priest had blinded himself to the reach of the alchemy he was dealing with, and something vengeful surged in Ed's heart.

Roy was gone, and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. He had travelled that road once before, and though the pain of loss shook him all the way to his core, Ed knew it was not something he would repeat. Not if he was still in his right mind. Yet he could punish Danner, and every moment the priest tried to weaken him further was another second to plan exactly how Ed would make him pay.

The fucker would get more than he bargained for. Ed would make sure of it.

First, though, he wanted some answers.

He tried to swallow, wincing as his dry mouth protested. Disciples gave him a sip or two of water now and again, but it was far from enough. His eyes itched, and his skin and lips felt cracked, but he forced his mouth to move anyway, speaking in a low, grumbling growl. 'All those people you killed, slitting their throats, just to get to me. What was the point?’

Danner glanced at the door, as if debating the wisdom of answering that question. He seemed impatient, irritated by the strength of Ed’s words, and for a moment Ed thought he would not answer. His hand skimmed the close crop of his hair, and his lips twisted in a sneer before returning to a more normal expression.

‘Experimentation is the driving force of knowledge. You should know that, My Lord.’ Danner shrugged, his robes sighing around him. ‘I was learning all I could about the process of the bond and what factors could effect it for better and worse.' he shrugged, his expression taking on a thoughtful slant, cold and clinical considering the subject. 'Besides, I needed a sure-fire way to break it once it was in place. Something better than what I used on that wretch Garrick and his pathetic wife. Something more permanent. No one comes back from a slit throat.’

‘Garrick’s wife didn’t come back, either,’ Ed pointed out, trying to keep his puzzled frown internal. Danner had been forced to use the same method on Roy, hadn’t he? No blood had been shed — it was just a simple touch. Was there a chance that, somehow, someone could have saved Roy after the bond had broken?

‘I try to account for all eventualities,’ Danner muttered, and for the first time Ed could see the bruises the man’s failures had caused to his ego. The priest was used to success, and admitting anything else was a true blow. ‘You never know when such knowledge may be required.'

Quickly, Ed tried to think of something else to say, anything to keep Danner talking, but he could barely hear his own thoughts over the sharp shrill of desperate hope in his heart. Logic tried to douse its warmth, pointing out the long odds of Roy coming back from such a fate, but Ed cast them aside, feeding the supernova in his chest.

It was the only thing he had left.

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Why do you even need to know about breaking the bond? You couldn’t predict I’d end up bound to someone who wasn’t you, so why bother?’

Danner smirked, rubbing his finger over his chin as his eyes darted to the restraints holding Ed in place, no doubt checking they were secure. ‘Being bound to someone like you, a _Saffron Soul_ , is as dangerous as it is intoxicating. I needed to be sure I could break free if necessary without destroying myself.’

He stood up sharply, as if realising that he may have already said too much. Quickly, he brushed his hand down his robes before turning towards the door, his remaining words drifting over his shoulder. ‘Of course, I would rather it did not come to that. Killing you to save myself would be unfortunate. You’re the last one, after all. To break the bond would be to give up the power you hold forever.’ Danner looked over his shoulder, staring at Ed like a predator looking upon its unpredictable prey. ‘Goodbye, My Lord. Not much longer now.’

‘Hey, wait!’ Ed yelled, hauling against the bars only to fall back panting against the floor. The fucker was right: he was getting weaker. He should have known that it had been too long since he had eaten, and now that lack had sapped his muscles of their force. Yet, somehow, food had been the last thing on his mind. Like a ship circling towards the centre of a whirlpool, his thoughts spun inwards once again. Deprived of something to fight, the balance shifted, leaving him cold and limp in the grip of his grief. The only thing that stopped it becoming all-consuming was Danner's little slip, and the bead of hope nestled on the cushion of Ed’s doubt like a diamond.

He blew out a steadying breath, not caring if he was fooling himself. He had to overcome Danner, and for that he had to believe there was something worth fighting for. Without someone to save, it was all too easy to become a victim and fall into an apathetic despondency. He had tried, back in the mists of his grief, to focus on those he knew still lived: Al, Winry and the others, but they seemed like ghosts, intangible to his slipping mind.

Roy, he could hold on to. He could picture every tilt of those lips and the soft, wry amusement that slipped into those eyes sometimes. He could remember the feelings of Roy's presence, and though that sensation was long gone, if he shut his eyes it bloomed again like flowers in the desert: Strong arms around his waist, the nudge of Roy's nose against his own and the soft, promising brush of those lips.

Perhaps madness lay this way, but Ed could not bring himself to fight against it. He would rather live in a fantasy constructed from his own memories than fight reality in all of its brutality. Self-deception could take him a long way. He had spent years swearing to himself that, against all the odds, he would find and get the stone. It had not worked out the way he planned, but the end result was the same.

He would get out of this. All his father's arrays had been destructive, but Ed knew every line and sigil as if it had been written on his skin. He had stared at those pages for hours, urging them to give up their secrets, and now the arrays danced in a giddy waltz across his mind. If he could just break them down and build them up different, then maybe his life would be spared. Maybe there would be enough left of him to find out if Roy had survived...

Part of his mind sneered that all this was a fallacy: Roy was dead and he was trapped, chained to the floor like an animal and doomed to slavery or death, but Ed pushed it aside, allowing his senses to fade as he slipped into the fugue of alchemy. Anyone watching might have wondered at his stillness. His breaths, previously fierce and feral had become steady and almost indiscernible. He barely blinked, and he did not bother to fight against his chains. It was as if he lay there, a waking recipient to some kind of dream only he could see, and for a while the grief, the fear and the stone-walled room faded from his reality.

Arrays spun through his mind, shattering apart and rearranging themselves. Time and again, he discarded the mental image of a new design, too weak or flawed to hold anything. His father had been right about one thing: power would be enough. This was not the kind of alchemy that interfered with the physical world, at least not on a level that could easily be seen. It was about creating an overload, not just of Danner's designs, but of any new bond attempting to form. It would break them both apart, not just mentally, but physically, like a bomb going off, and try as Ed might he could not think of another way to achieve the same end.

The problem was that the human body was a weak thing. He could rattle off the list of chemicals that made flesh and bone in less than a minute — he knew them by heart after all — but all of that was made into something alive by things only priests claimed to understand. None of that stuff made a person, just a doll, if that, and miniscule forces held it all together. To make a bond, or break one while it was forming, took too much power. It would shake a human body to dust.

That's what had happened to the disciples at Edil Park, Ed realised with a grimace. He remembered the bloody mess that was all that had remained. Danner had used them like a stone, pushing the power in to the array. No doubt he had more of them lined up, but Hohenheim's designs turned all that inward, forcing the power to go through the person in control of the array and its victim.

'It needs two,' Ed murmured to himself, moving his hand to cuff at his eyes, only to have his wrist stop a split-second later. Of course, the bars, they didn't want him scratching, so he couldn't move much in any direction. Instead he had to settle for another gritty blink as his mind continued along the gloomy rails of his conclusion.

All arrays needed two points of balance: every single one was designed with that in mind. It was all written into the sigils and the lines of the array, so instinctive to Ed now that he rarely thought about it. However, to overcome Danner's attempts, to satisfy the vast demands of the changing alchemy, he would have to use himself, just like his dad had written in his designs.

Muttering a curse, Ed shook his head. Maybe if his throat did not feel like a dry river bed, and maybe if his gut did not ache with hunger, he would have been able to think of something, but now his concentration faded in and out, constantly buffeted by hope, fear and distress.

There had to be another way. Fuck the array, what if he did not let it get that far? The past few days had been spent in a fog of grief and hazy sleep thick with drugs, but now his mind was starting to clear. He had managed to get out of worse situations than this, and Danner had said that the true believers outnumbered bastards like Myers now. If he could just get out of these chains, then he could probably break out of this hellhole and be gone before Danner even knew it.

He turned his attention back to the cuffs on his wrist, hoping for some kind of weakness. There was no way he could bring his hands together to clap, and the floor was swept clean. There was no dust into which he could draw even a desperate array, and a quick, clumsy scratch only served to break his fingernail. If he could just get one hand free, then he could blow this place to hell. Did Danner even know that? He believed Ed could be powerful if he realised his potential as _The Saffron Soul_ , but didn't he know how dangerous the Fullmetal Alchemist could be? One array, that's all it would take. One quick blast and the whole place would probably come tumbling down, and Ed could be on his way.

With a quiet snarl, he tried to pull his hand free of the manacles, but there was no give there. Cloth had been inserted between his wrist and the metal to protect his skin, but where Ed hoped it would slip and set him free, it only served to act as a seal, mingling with his own sweat and sticking to his flesh. The bars were strong steel, about as long as his hand span was wide and attached to rings embedded deeply in the floor. There was no crumbling mortar or wobbling stone, no point of weakness he could exploit, and Ed growled in annoyance, only biting his lip when he heard the key turn in the door once more.

He expected to see a blank-faced disciple, one like Myers who was in this for something other than faith, but the young man who stepped trembling over the threshold could not be much older than Ed, and the only emotion daubed on his face was blind devotion. Slender hands shook around the cup he held in his hands as he dropped into a low, grovelling bow, careful not to spill a drop.

There was dust on his robes at around knee level, and Ed realised it was because the boy had been praying. Danner was probably too busy to give sermons, but some of the followers seemed to have moved beyond the priest's words.

Ed hated worship. People had their gods and he let them get on with it, even if he thought they were wasting their time talking to imaginary people in the sky, but being the centre of someone's adoration had always set his teeth on edge. That “Hero Of The People” shit made him cringe, and now the simple words “My Lord” had become the worst kind of insult.

Yet the boy said nothing. Instead he set the cup down gently on the floor and turned back, nodding to someone Ed could not see before closing the door quietly. He did not lock it, and Ed's eyes narrowed as the boy picked up the cup again and walked closer before kneeling at Ed's side and cradling his head, helping him to take a sip.

Desperately, Ed gulped down the water, greedily snatching at all that touched his lips before it was taken away. He expected the boy to withdraw and deprive him of the ice cool drink, but he held the cup patiently, waiting until Ed had drained it before placing it to one side. Suspicion fluttered across Ed's mind, and he glanced back at the vessel as he tried to discern any lingering flavours in his mouth, but it tasted like water, clean and clear.

'Was it drugged?' he muttered, satisfaction stirring in his stomach as the boy flinched. Good, at least they were scared of him.

'Just water. They haven't been giving you enough. We — we don't like that. We have been trying to find a way to get to you, but the father often leaves guards on the door. It took us this long to get true-believers to watch your cell.' Milky blue eyes darted to the restraints, and a worried frown cinched the kid's face. 'We have been told you are on a holy fast. That you are resting...'

'Rest in chains often, do you?' Ed shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as the boy flinched again. He needed allies in this place, or at least someone conflicted enough in their loyalties to give him the chance he needed to get away. Perhaps fear was not the way to go; for all that he wanted to punish every robe-clad bastard in this place. 'Look, I don't care what shit Danner's been feeding you, I am not some kind of god, and he is not going to give you anything that you want. It's all about money and power for him and his thugs.'

'Max believed.'

The words came out of nowhere like a sucker punch, leaving Ed's jaw hanging as his mind raced. It seemed like an eternity ago that Max, the large policeman, had carried him into Danner's grasp. Ed could remember thinking the man was too intelligent for the priest's lies, but it had killed him in the end: a head inside a bloody bag held up outside Ed's hospital window.

'The father said he was needed, that he had been called, but he just killed him. It was meant to be a punishment, a message to anyone who let things go wrong.' The boy looked at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. 'It's what will happen to us if he finds out we let you have a drink.'

Ed allowed the words to sink in, trying to find balance between triumph and suspicion. Part of him thought this was all an act — that Danner was trying to lead him on and give him further hope — but that made no sense. The priest wanted him weak and wasted, not fuelled by the quiet promises of his followers. Yet if what the boy was saying was true, then it seemed that the unrest in some of the disciples went deeper than he imagined. If Danner was not careful, then he would have an all out war on his hands.

'Us?' Ed asked cautiously, trying to gauge just how many of the so-called true believers were beginning to act against Danner's orders.

'There are six of us who have sworn to follow our belief, rather than the father's words,' the boy whispered, bowing his head. 'I know that is too few. More have their doubts, but they live in fear. They have given up everything to hear Danner's words: their property, their family and connections... Without him and his promises, they have nothing left.'

'He's lying, and by the time he's done, they'll have lost their lives as well. They're fuel. Didn't you see what happened at Edil Park? What happened when I was accidentally bound to —' His throat closed on Roy's name, and he finished clumsily. '—Someone else?'

Now he had the kid's full attention. Blue eyes bored into him, and he was leaning forward, his lips slightly parted as he listened. 'We were left here, and those that went — the father said they had ascended.'

'They were killed, powering the alchemy that Danner's promising you will make all the difference,' Ed said bluntly, watching the limited colour drain from the boy's face. 'He took their lives and used them up until there was nothing left, all because of his experiments. He's bound others, and he probably used disciples in the same way.'

'They — they were chosen. It was meant to be an honour. All of us are meant to be involved in your binding. More than a hundred.'

Ed paused, knowing how Danner's mind was working, but having to ask the question anyway. 'Are any of his followers not going to be on the edge of the circle? What about Chief Inspector Myers?'

The boy shook his head slowly, his eyes calculating. 'No, he's not been chosen. We — we thought those that believed and prayed were being rewarded. We were wrong, weren't we? They’re the ones being saved?'

Ed was about to reply when a warning rap on the door broke through the air, fast and panicked. The boy jumped to his feet, scrabbling for the cup and hurrying to the door, dragging the hood of his robe up over his head as he did so. 'I have to go. We will tell the others. It's all we can do.'

'No, no it's not. You can let me go!' Ed spat a curse, yanking hard on his chains as the boy turned to look at him in horror. 'If Danner doesn't have me, he can't kill any of you. He won't need to. You can get out of here.'

'He'll kill us like Max, instead, like animals to the slaughter. I'm sorry, My Lord. I'll help with water and food if I can, but I'll not undo those chains.' There were tears in his eyes, and Ed let his head fall back to the floor as the boy blinked them away. 'I'm sorry.'

The door closed behind him, dashing Ed's hopes as the key turned in the lock once more, sealing him in with his tumultuous thoughts. Danner's followers were starting to turn, but it was a slow tide, and Ed could feel the minutes ticking away. They might think what the priest was doing to him, their so-called god, was wrong, but they were blinded by panic and conflicting information. Danner promised them everything, and all Ed gave them was the unsavoury truth. Changes of allegiance took time, and Ed knew that was a resource he could not spare. He had to get out of this mess himself. At least there was a chance that some of Danner's followers wouldn't try too hard to stop his escape.

Flexing his Automail arm, he looked at the ring buried deep in the floor, holding him in place. It did not look very weak, but what choice did he have? He was not about to lie here and wait for Danner to fetch him, not now. No one had bothered to give him any drugs for a while; perhaps they thought it was a bad idea when he had no food. After all, it was easy enough for a pacified captive to become a dead one with the wrong dose, and then the priest really would be screwed.

Steadily, Ed set to work, hauling his arm in different directions with all his strength. The Automail moved smoothly, stronger than his real arm, especially now. His physical muscles might quiver from lack of energy, but the strong plates and wire nerves did not give up so easily, and Ed twisted and strained as a faint sheen of sweat prickled across his skin.

No one else stopped at his door or came in to check on him. Time slipped past, immeasurable except for the beat of his heart and the steady crumble of stone and mortar around the pinion holding him captive. One hand free would be his ticket out of here, and Ed focused all his being on the simple act of tearing himself from his prison.

It happened suddenly, like a chunk of ice coming loose from a glacier and crashing down into the ocean. A flaw in the stone cracked open, and Ed's arm was abruptly free. The muscles in his shoulder and chest ached from the effort, but it took everything he had to remain quiet and discreet. He wanted to smash his way out, to annihilate Danner in a swarm of blazing alchemy, but he knew he was outnumbered. Maybe if he had been strong he would have risked it anyway, but the last thing he needed right now was a fight.

A silent press of his metal palm to that of flesh was enough to summon his alchemy, and the remaining chains fell away, corroding from sight. Moving stiffly, he breathed a curse as blood flowed back to his limbs, awakening sullen aches to roaring, snarling beasts of pain. His stomach was like lead with hunger, and his head felt too light, as if his skull was filled with helium, but Ed still struggled upright, bracing his palm on the wall as he considered his next move.

The moment his skin touched the stone, he felt the power contained within the building. It had been treated with alchemy. For a brief, scattered moment he thought Danner had engrained some kind of alarm system into the very fabric of Ed's cell, but a quick glance was enough to confirm that the arrays were more simple than that. No, the priest wouldn't know that Ed was free of his restraints, but he had made sure Ed could not simply blast his way out. If he tried, the tiny arrays on every wall would leach the power away, diffusing it effortlessly while Ed simply poured himself away.

Fucker.

Ed pursed his lips, considering his options. There were no windows, only the strong oak door. Its vast iron hinges were as long as his arm, and the large lock glared at him like a baleful eye. It had probably once been some kind of vault or storeroom, but now the small, unadorned chamber felt more like a tomb than anything else.

Forcing himself to focus, Ed moved across the floor, careful to make sure his boots made no noise as he pressed his ear against the wood. The grain was rough against his skin, and he noticed the glow of more arrays around the lock. Danner had not been taking any chances, and Ed could hear the quiet shift of guards on the other side of the door. One, maybe two.

That was something he would have to deal with when he got to it. Weak or not, he still had the power left to take out a couple of disciples, especially if he had the element of surprise. All he had to do was work out how to get out of this room...

He glanced around, and his eyes fell on a grating in the corner of the room. When there had still been piss in him, a couple of guards had waited while he stood, half-drugged and dazed, to relieve himself down the little grill. Now Ed gave the foetid metal grid his full attention, tipping his head to one side as he considered it, but no, even if he could fit down there, which he doubted, it was more likely to be a cess pit than a sewer judging from the smell. Besides, it could be deeper than he was tall, and drowning was a bad enough death without adding shit to the situation.

Clenching his jaw, Ed turned back to the door. The lock was protected so he could not melt it, and even the main panel glowed faintly with an array. The only thing about it that seemed benign was the hinges, and Ed leaned closer for a better look, smirking as he realised that here, perhaps, lay his way out.

Danner was not as smart as he thought.

The hinges might be big and heavy, but they were simple enough, and Ed's fingers itched as he reached out, waiting for any sensation that might warn him of protective alchemy. Only cold metal kissed his fingertips, and Ed smiled as he squared his shoulders, summoning up his strength.

Pale blue light flared around his fingertips, subtle compared to his usual style, but it penetrated the metal in moments, turning it to liquid. Slowly, the hinges began to sag, and Ed felt the door give slightly in its frame. It was still standing, resting on the floor like a giant domino and held in place by the lock, but with the right amount of force it would soon give way.

Stepping back, he transmuted his automail blade into place. This was going to hurt him, but not nearly as much as it would the people on the other side of that door. Ed retreated until his back was pressed against the far wall, hoping he had not overestimated himself. If this failed, he'd just bounce off and the guards would know he was loose. Kicking it in would not be enough; it needed all his weight, and even then…

This really was his last chance.

Taking a deep breath, Ed launched himself at the hinged side of the door, gritting his teeth as he slammed into it with all his strength. Wood splintered as the lock buckled, twisting around so that the door swung open and slammed into the face of the guard on one side. Ed took care of the other, quick and quiet, hoping they weren't the true believers the kid had mentioned. Grey robes offered little protection, and there was enough blood spilling onto the floor for Ed to know the man would probably die, but he did not have time to hang around. His efforts had not been stealthy, and even now he thought he could hear distant voices calling out in alarm.

Oil lamps lit his immediate surroundings, standing on the bare stone floor, and Ed lashed out with his automail foot, kicking one over and hearing the glass tinkle. Instantly the seeping oil caught light, and Ed backed off hurriedly, scraping the oil off his boot to leave a dark smear that began to burn in moments. That would give them something else to worry about. Already the flame was taking hold, seeking out the wooden frame of the door. Maybe it would burn out before long, but Ed intended to put the distraction to good use.

Logical thought took a back seat to instinct as Ed stumbled away down the corridor. Adrenaline fuelled his movements, making his breaths harsh and ragged as he groped along the wall and pushed his way deeper into the darkness. It had to be a cellar or something; the gloom was almost thick enough to chew. Here and there, distant candle flames pocked the night, and Ed snuffed each one out as he passed, always listening for the telltale signs of anyone giving chase.

Only the roar of the blaze he had set reached his ears, and he could feel the soft draft as it sucked in oxygen to feed itself. Belatedly, he wondered if he had trapped himself down here, creating a wall of flame between himself and the only exit, but no. This felt like an old house, and the place was probably a warren of passageways. If he could just get of here...

He tried not to let the hope of escape burn too bright, but triumph was hard to stifle. Danner had not been expecting this, not the betrayal of his disciples or Ed's own resilience. Perhaps he thought he would be left with a stringless puppet after breaking the bond, and for a while Ed knew he had not been much better than a mindless doll, but now his thoughts were sharp and clear, focussed on the simple goal of escape.

Turning the corner, a sound tweaked at his hearing, making him pause. It was a faint crackle that quickly snuffed out the growl of the fire. Someone had already put it out, and Ed knew alchemy when he heard it. He had seconds before Danner and his pets would be hot on his tail, and he had no intention of being around for them to find.

Voices became shouts, and Ed lurched into a sprint, gasping a curse as his weak body wobbled and his chest began to ache. He had gone without food before, but not for this long, and hunger was demanding its price. His chest burned, and his heart felt like a great weight beneath his ribs as fruitless nausea rolled in his stomach. Every sprinting step was a clumsy effort, but he drove himself onwards, making the most of the intermittent candlelight as he dashed along one corridor and another, taking random turns as the distant drum of footsteps followed behind.

The air changed, no longer tainted with the scent of damp and decay, but fresh and alive. Ed's nostrils flared and he picked up speed, clambering up a set of worn stone steps to the door at the top. The handle turned easily, and he pressed his ear to the wood, listening intently. Nothing. Only the sounds of Danner's pursuit reached his ears: shouted orders, rushing, panicked footsteps as doors were flung open and rooms searched — as if Ed would bother to hide when there was a chance of getting out.

Quickly, he darted through the door, closing it silently behind him and sliding the bolt into place. Sweat made his skin itch, and the hairs on his arms bristled, but no one leapt forward to bear him to the ground. Shadows cloaked him in their loving grasp, and he tried to quiet his stuttering breaths as he examined the huge hallway before him.

Overhead, a large staircase swept upwards, leaving him sheltered in the forgotten space beneath the steps. Black and white tiles stretched away, lit by the glorious glow of a massive chandelier. The furniture was covered in dust sheets: pianos, chairs and the other stuff rich people used to fill up their homes all lay shrouded in cloth. Only the paintings had been uncovered: blank-eyed aristocrats with weak chins stared down from their gilt frames, and Ed's eyes narrowed at one of those closest to him. He was wearing a stupid white wig and had some kind of mole on his cheek, but there was something about the eyes and jaw that was almost familiar.

Shaking his head, Ed turned towards the door, glad to be hidden from sight as a group of disciples stumbled to a halt, blocking his way out. Their faces gleamed with sweat, and they were whispering to each other, gesticulating wildly. Eventually, they seemed to reach some kind of decision, and four of them stalked away, leaving two of them to stand sentry.

Ed recognised them as Myers' men, and his lips quivered in a snarl as he explored his options. Taking the two down outside his cell had left him trembling with the effort, and those in the hall were expecting a fight. Ed was not about to push his luck: he knew he did not stand a chance.

Silently, he eased himself back onto the shelter of the gloom beneath the stairs and continued to look around. The hallway split off in two directions. To his right it looked grand, well lit and painted, with large double doors leading into one wing of the house. The other passage was discreet, and Ed breathed a sigh of relief. He knew how these houses went. There were the rooms made to be seen: parlours, libraries and studies, and then there were the rooms that were required to let houses like this run, like kitchens and laundry rooms.

Even better, the chances were that the disciples who had to keep this place going, cooking and whatever, would be involved in the hunt for him. If luck was on his side, then the servant's wing would be empty, and any back doors out of this place might be unguarded.

It was a long shot, and Ed had been in similar situations often enough to know when he was getting desperate, but the alternative was unacceptable. He tried to move quietly and coax his trembling muscles into something approaching stealth, but it took all his strength to drift, ghost-like, from the shelter of the staircase unseen before darting down the corridor.

His jaw clenched as his hands tightened into fists, surveying the sparse passageway. There was nowhere to hide from any pursuers down here, and yellowing candles shoved in cheap brass candlesticks lit the way. He could try putting them out, but up here that would just leave a trail for Danner and his men to follow, rather than a confusion of sheltering gloom.

Every inch of him itched to run, but sometimes speed was the stupid option. Instead he compromised, going as fast as he could while making sure every footstep was as light as a feather. Something as simple as the scrape of his boot against the floor could give him away, and he had no intention of being caught now.

The long corridor finally turned a corner, and Ed peered around the sharp angle, surveying the empty kitchen. They had been preparing something, a feast, from the looks of it. There was enough food to feed an army, but the job had been abandoned. Knives lay on the counter, and the fire burned sullenly in the grate while the meat hung motionless on its spit.

Succulent aromas made Ed's stomach roar, and his previously dry mouth was suddenly wet with drool. He barely restrained himself from lunging blindly forward and snatching at the food on the table, and only the last shriek of his common sense made him creep forward, scanning the room for any sign of occupation before grabbing some fresh bread and ripping a bite from it.

He shot into the corner, pressing his back to the vee of the walls as he ravened the food, gobbling it down and barely bothering to chew. His eyes never left the room, darting from one side to the other. He did not have time to fill himself up, but the bread at least dulled the ache of a neglected stomach and provided succour to the starved reserves of his strength. As soon as he was a safe distance from this place, he would eat more, but now that the unstoppable need of his body had been temporarily sated, his mind clicked back into place, and his eyes fell on a slim, grubby door set into the wall.

There were windows on either side of it, shuttered from the outside. Yet the wood panels were sagging on their hinges, giving in to rot, and they were open enough for Ed to see nightfall beyond. Stars pocked the sky with their light, and Ed stumbled over, practically smelling his freedom. Only his natural suspicion over-ruled his haste, drawing his hand to a halt a bare hair's breadth from the latch.

The power stored in the wood was more noticeable this time, not a benign drain but a violent charge. Whatever it would do to him, it would be painful, and no doubt Danner and his followers would come running. Perhaps it had been put there to prevent his escape, or to keep less trustworthy disciples in their proper place, but either way Ed was stuck.

Whoever had created this alchemy had been more thorough than the one charged with protecting Ed's impromptu cell. Even the glass on the windows had been etched to prevent breakage. Ed spat a curse, looking at each one frantically, desperate to find some kind of weakness. He could hear noises from the rest of the house. Shouts were becoming desperate now. Someone screamed in pain, and sprinting footsteps clattered overhead. They were tearing this place apart, and Ed wiped sweat from his brow, knowing that if he rushed out looking for another exit, they were sure to find him.

No, his way out had to be here somewhere.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of searching, Ed saw the flaw in the designs. Whoever had protected the left hand window had done it in a hurry. If he smashed the glass, it would all go to hell, but the simple act of opening it would not raise any alarms. The array protecting the latch was incomplete, a clumsy circle drawn in haste, and Ed grinned in triumph as he leant his weight against it, heaving the sash wide before easing open the shutters beyond and clambering through.

He landed in a neglected flowerbed, setting free a drift of downy seeds from the weeds that choked the earth. It had probably been a kitchen garden once, but now damp soil stuck to his boots as he eased the window shut and closed the shutter once more. His heart was thumping in his throat, painfully hard, and he allowed himself a moment to suck in a deep breath of clean air before turning around.

The dogs growled, red-eyed in their cages, and Ed froze, glaring at them. They were police dogs, umber and black and trained to hunt. He was not a criminal, but nor was he trusted, and their low, rumbling growls were gaining intensity. The first bark was like a firework, thunderously loud in the peace of the countryside, and Ed leapt away, sprinting blindly from the source of the noise.

Ahead of him, light spilled from the house, and he heard the front doors slamming against the walls as they were flung wide. Footsteps thudded down the steps, and the unsteady beam of torches danced ahead, forcing him to skid at a wild right angle. There was a driveway, outhouses and there, parked and silent, was what looked like a truck.

Ed had tried driving once, and he had to admit it was harder than it looked, but right now he would take any advantage he could get, and four wheels would get him out of here better than his two stumbling, aching feet. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself onwards. Stealth did not matter now; it was all about speed, and he poured his being into every second, forcing himself towards the truck as the chase fell behind.

His fingers closed around the vehicle's door handle, rattling it frantically, but it did not budge. He smashed his right elbow through the window without a thought, groping frantically for the lock as his nerves thrilled with a swarm of adrenaline. His metal fingers had just closed around the lever of the lock when something moved, and the cool metal of a gun kissed the skin behind his ear.

'Going somewhere?'

Myers’ silky voice slithered through the night air, and Ed’s anger exploded into life. He did not even stop to consider the gun pointed at his head as he whipped around, slamming his Automail down on Myers’ arm and kicking out with his foot, catching the man in his stomach. The pistol clattered to the floor and Myers bent double, but it was a ruse. Ed saw it coming a split second before the older man lunged forward, bringing him down and slamming his head into the gravel driveway.

Ed’s skull sparked with pain, but it was minor compared to the inferno of fury that boiled in his veins. This shit had led Roy to his death — had lured them into Danner’s grasp and given them to him without mercy. Now he was here, breathing and living when he had not given Roy the same chance, and Ed’s body shook with the urge to tear Myers’ life from his frame.

Fiercely, he snapped his head forward, feeling the blood spurt when his forehead connected with Myers’ nose. It was enough of a distraction to get an arm free, and he slammed his forearm across the Chief's throat, hearing the retch of surprise even as he kicked his way free. Myers went down easily, and Ed was too blinded by rage to see it was another trick. The man was not giving in; he was going for the gun.

The shot echoed through the night, bringing every other sound crashing to a halt as Ed stumbled back against the chilly bulk of the truck. His shoulder burned, and he could feel warm liquid flowing down his arm to drip onto the ground. Myers stood, blood-stained and panting with the barrel of the gun jammed against the skin of Ed’s brow. The chief was sweating, wide-eyed and panicked, and Ed’s voice growled in his throat as he spat a challenge.

‘Pull the trigger, you shit. Danner’s not going to give you a fucking thing.’

‘No! You fool!’

The priest was sprinting towards them, leading the pack of disciples. He lunged forward, knocking the gun aside as two disciples seized Ed’s arms, making the wound scream as they pinned him in place.

‘If you kill him, all of this will be for nothing. We will have _nothing_.’ Danner’s face was flushed with anger, but Myers barely even flinched as the priest pulled back his fist. His free hand moved like a snake, grabbing Danner’s wrist and holding him back while the disciples looked on, a frozen audience to the power struggle.

‘You wanted him weak,’ Myers spat, waving the gun at Ed again. ‘Now get on with it, Danner. We’ve waited long enough for your promises.’

For a moment, no one said a word. The world held its breath, silent and calm as Danner slowly nodded his head. ‘You’re right. The time has come. Bring him.’

Ed struggled, but it was a useless act. The disciples holding him were strong, and his arm felt as if it was on fire. Besides, even if he could wrest himself free from their grasp there were plenty of others to catch him again. Myers was striding along nearby, and when Ed cast a hateful look in his direction, he saw the smirk cross those thin lips.

‘I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer,’ Myers said matter-of-factly. ‘You’re no lord to me.’

Ed bit his tongue, his feet dragging along the driveway as his mind turned inexorably back to his father’s arrays. Despite all his efforts, it had come to this. There was only one thing left in his power.

He would make sure Myers and Danner never got what they wanted. He would die first, and he would take them both with him.


	26. Chapter 26

The car tyres hummed over the road’s surface, the only sound in the quiet confines of the vehicle. Roy sat in the passenger seat, stoic and silent as he watched the darkness beyond the windscreen. As soon as Hughes had told him of the suspicions circling his mind, and of Ed's probable location, it was as if the entire world had slid back into focus. Helplessness had expired beneath the abrupt surge of purpose that filled Roy's frame, and now his fists clenched and relaxed spasmodically with impatience.

Hawkeye was driving as fast as she dared, leading the convoy across the rural terrain that separated Central from Bannock Bane. Roy had wasted no time in acquiring men from Marlow. Later, with his superior’s help, he would square things with the military, but frankly he did not care if the Fuhrer stripped him of his commission. Ed had to be saved, and the more manpower Roy had at his back, the more likely he was to succeed.

His eyes lifted to the rear view mirror, catching Alphonse's gaze for a moment before slipping beyond him to the headlights of the next truck. The briefing had lived up to its name. All the soldiers knew was that they were after the Cut-Throat Killer. More information was simply unnecessary. They knew the situation was dangerous and violent, and that Danner had supporters to his cause. It did not matter that no country boundary was in dispute; to a soldier, this was still war — just on a smaller scale.

The fabric of his gloves chafed his fingertips, and Roy glanced down at his hands, trying to relax his knuckles and forcing himself to keep his palms splayed on his knees. His men did not want him there; he could feel it in the air. They had tried to convince him to stay at the office, but their efforts were futile and their logic fell on deaf ears.

They thought he was too weak and vulnerable for this fight, but he would show them otherwise.

A cruel smirk crossed his lips, but he let it linger. He was still sane, of that he was fairly certain, but it was a chilly, rigid mental state, with nothing as human as compassion. It seemed to scare them, those who knew him so well. Hughes looked sick with it, or had when they got in the car. He sat behind Roy now, in his blind spot, but Roy could still feel the fear emanating from his best friend. Was it anxiety for his well being, or horror at what he might do when they finally found Danner's hiding place?

Roy shook his head, trying to dispel the questions that drifted through his skull like glaciers. Nothing could have made him stay behind. His men thought he would be safe back at the office; they did not seem to realise he was a danger to himself — unstable at best.

Suddenly, something flared in Roy's awareness, cutting into his thoughts. He jerked in surprise, his head whipping around to stare at dark, empty fields as his lips parted in surprise. This was not something he could see, but something he felt with every fibre of his being. Where there had been nothing but emptiness, there was now sensation. It was not the familiar warmth and light of the bond, but something thick and cloying, plucking at his nerves and pulling him closer.

'The house is over there,' he murmured, jerking his head towards the horizon.

'The turning is about half a mile ahead,' Hughes agreed, and Roy heard him lean forward. 'I didn't know you'd seen the map.'

Roy licked his lips, leaning so that his nose was almost pressed against the glass, which steamed with his every breath. 'I didn't. I just — felt something.'

He could almost imagine every pair of ears in the car pricking up, honing in on his words like dogs listening to their master. It was a ridiculous image; he had never considered anyone in his command as pets, after all, but now he was definitely the centre of attention.

'I did wonder if it was a matter of distance,' Al said, clearing his throat as Roy finally tore his eyes from the window and looked over his shoulder. 'Garrick said he was constantly drawn back to his wife's grave because of the bond they had shared. That's why I kept asking if you could feel anything.'

'It's not the same. It's just a — a compulsion.' Roy swallowed, realising that was just the word for it. He could feel it seizing his muscles and sending down roots into his bones, tugging as surely as a hook in his mouth. Part of him, animal and wild, wanted to scrabble at the door handle and leap out — to simply sprint and close the distance until the crawling, aching feeling was finally gone — but he held himself firm. 'Why did it not take hold before this? I got the impression that Garrick had put several miles between himself and his wife, and he was still forced to return.'

Al shrugged. 'I don't know. Maybe all bonds are different, the same as people.'

Roy turned away to stare out of the windscreen once more as his stomach twisted into knots. For a brief moment he had hoped that, somehow, the bond had survived, but no. Al was right. This sickly, grasping tug was not the balm of his connection with Ed. It was merely a revenant: something dead that still held sway over a living soul. It did not even tell him anything of Ed's well being. Garrick's wife had been long gone, yet her husband could not leave the side of her tomb. Would he find Ed the same way, robbed of life by Danner's greed, or would it be worse than that?

Would he just be the priest's puppet? A doll with Ed's face?

Roy jerked his head sharply, inwardly scolding himself for those thoughts. The years in Ed's company had taught him enough to know that Ed would never succumb. In Ed's mind, no price would be too high to prevent that from happening, even if it meant throwing his own life away. Danner would have to fight for every inch of ground he gained in tapping into the power of the _Saffron Soul_. Ed would make sure of it. All Roy could do was make sure he intervened before Ed succumbed to the final call of his own father's fatal alchemy.

'Kill the lights,' he told Hawkeye, seeing her nod and extinguish the headlights as Hughes turned in his seat, using his torch to signal in Morse to the trucks following on behind. There were only two, carrying twenty men in all, and the world grew darker as they obeyed, dropping their speed to prevent a collision and peering out into the breathless night.

'Here's the turn.' Hughes pointed on ahead. 'About halfway along there's a thick copse of trees, we can leave the trucks there and proceed on foot. I’m not expecting Danner to have guards this far out, but closer to Glaston House it might be another matter.'

Roy nodded in understanding, knowing that this kind of strategy was where his friend excelled. Normally he would have been right alongside him, pushing emotion aside to plot their way forward, but he was incapable. It took all his strength to overcome the continuing ache in his chest and tame the snarling, furious creature of his fury. One click of his fingers and the place would be incinerated, with every life inside taken along with it. If Ed was not trapped within those four walls, Roy was not sure he could have restrained himself. They did not deserve to live after what they had done.

He was aware that he was not himself. Ishbal had taught him the value of human life, and that everyone extinguished, whatever their actions, would have grieving relatives. A person did not exist in isolation, but it was almost impossible to think over the growing snarls of his deeper instincts. His emotions were blending in a hideous cocktail of grief, guilt and failure, and the result was a blistering, soul-deep fury at all those who he could possibly hold responsible.

Roy sucked in a deep breath, trying to find some mastery over his own, feral nature, released from the darker shadows of his soul by the breaking of the bond. This was a rescue, not a massacre. Justice would be brought, but not by him. It was not his place, no matter how much an internal voice howled otherwise. He could feel its keening cry slamming against his mental walls, tearing at him with its claws, and he clenched his jaw tight until, at last, the car pulled to a halt.

In his current frame of mind, the vehicle was too much like a cage, and he got out with unseemly speed, feeling his senses stir to life as he took in their surroundings. Trees stood around them, the towers of their trunks climbing up to the stars. The ground underfoot was unkempt gravel, littered with the dead leaves of several autumns. The air smelled moist and earthy, as if it had rained earlier in the day, and the cry of an owl ghosted through the night.

There were no human sounds except those made by the men he had brought with him: the click of a gun, the scuff of boots, whispered orders and silent obedience. The group moved forward as if they were one being thinking with one mind, clinging to the shadows and keeping their eyes open for any sign of life on the track ahead.

It was a slow, steady walk, and even if Roy’s heart had not already been weak in his chest, every breath would have been tight and fast. Living like this, on the knife-edge of survival, was only possible for so long, and he knew the others felt it. The possibility of death hung heavy in the air: A bullet, the flash of alchemy, a solid punch… Anything could bring the shaky edifice of their plan crashing down and spell the end.

Roy swallowed, feeling the sparse gravel become thicker and more groomed beneath his feet. Where there had been potholes and the wheel-ruts of the centuries, there was now a smooth, scattering surface beneath his boots. A quick glance down at the stones, glowing softly in the moonlight, showed the telltale overlap of tyre tracks. There was no way to tell how recent they were, but Roy would bet everything he had that they could not be more than a few days old.

The clear night sky had turned the air chilly, and his breath left his lips in a stuttering stream as the grasping, clutching feeling intensified, curling like a fist beneath his ribs. It was taking all of his control to remain stealthy and logical. He longed to break into a sprint until he was at Ed's side again. He had not understood Garrick's inability to leave his wife when the old man had mentioned it, but now grim comprehension filled his world.

Whatever happened, however this all ended, Roy doubted he would be able to turn around and walk away unless Ed was at his side. If he was not careful, the urge threatened to overrule everything, from conscious thought to simple biological need. How much further away could insanity be?

Yet there was a silver lining. Before, the aches of his body had been unrelenting, gnawing at his bones and tempting him with promises of respite if he would only sleep. Now, that held no sway over him. It was as if he could simply keep going, regardless of his physical state. The sensation had become fuel for every movement, filling his nerves with black, treacherous stars of energy that seemed to spark without warning, adding to the already unpredictable edge of his altered nature.

'Wait. Do you smell that?' Hughes’ hand gripped his right wrist, and Roy fought aside the urge to tear himself free. The closer they got to the house, the more wild he felt. It was becoming more difficult to remember why stealth was important. Part of him knew that the element of surprise could be the only advantage they had, but it was not something he felt the urge to treasure.

Taking a deep breath, Roy wrinkled his nose at the rancid scent in the air. His gaze followed Hughes' pointing finger, picking out the disturbed earth amidst the thinning trees. They were not far from the house now, but this area was still concealed from both the buildings and the distant main road. There were several shovels glinting cruelly in the moonlight, and when Fuery shielded his torch with his hands and directed the beam close to the ground, they saw the scuffle of footsteps leading to the long clumsy mound a short way in.

They would probably have walked straight past it if animals had not got to the shallow grave. The holes they had dug to reach the feast now released the noisome scent of decomposing flesh, like a slaughterhouse in high summer. It lodged in Roy's throat, making him swallow convulsively as he gently reached out and turned off Fuery's torch.

He could feel the shock of the men around him. They had all seen the mass grave, as well as the body parts strewn around, alien in their dismembered forms, but this was not why they had come to Bannock Bane.

'There's nothing here to save now,' he whispered, keeping his voice quiet while allowing it to carry. 'Once this is over, we'll come back for them.'

He meant that promise. Soldiers faced death every time they strode onto a battlefield, and though their common sense told them the bodies in that ill-dug tomb could not feel their torment, the thought of it being one of them left like that was enough to make anyone's skin crawl.

'Come on, keep moving.' He patted Fuery gently on the shoulder, urging him on as he met Hughes' gaze. His best friend would have his own ideas about the grave, but they knew enough of Danner to reach the same conclusion. Attempts had been made at secrecy, and the burial was hurried, as if time was of the essence. The corpses had been quickly placed out of sight: probably those of Danner's followers who had "ascended" in previous experiments, or perhaps those like Isobel, who had simply known too much of the mortal horror behind his scripture.

Inching closer to the house, Roy surveyed the grounds. They were ramshackle and forgotten: overgrown orchards and weed-choked flowerbeds, surrounded on three sides by wild meadow that had probably once been pasture. The house itself was not much better. Despite its grandeur, the roof slumped in the centre, and the once immaculate plasterwork was cracked and bone-white in the darkness of the night.

Shutters and curtains were drawn tight against the world, but light could find a way through the smallest of cracks, and there was no doubt that the place was inhabited. There was nothing so obvious as a silhouette, but there were clues if you knew where to look: smoke curled from several of the chimneys, and one of the upstairs windows had been pushed open to admit the fresh air. Danner had tried to hide his followers within the depths of Glaston House, but there were too many inconsequential, human tells to keep them completely from sight.

'There'll be patrols,' Hughes whispered. 'Whatever's happening inside the house, even if they're in the middle of Danner's ultimate ceremony, Myers will make sure the grounds are being watched. The priest might forget he has enemies, but the Chief's too smart for that.'

Roy nodded, giving quick, whispered orders to the men around him. They listened in silence, each nodding in comprehension as they split off into groups of three, creeping around the perimeter in a textbook search pattern. There were plenty of outbuildings and gloomy shadows, but for all the shelter they offered Roy's men, they were also ideal spots for an ambush.

Leaning his weight forward, Roy peered into the night, itching to be on the move. Al, Hughes and Hawkeye had stayed with him, sheltered in the gloom of the copse. Roy was not sure whether it was to keep him safe or make sure he did not bolt, but from the tight-lipped expression on Hawkeye's face when he caught her eye, it was probably both. They could sense he was like a dog on a hunt, and Roy forced his fingers to relax inside his gloves, trying to remind himself that these people were his friends, rather than obstacles in his path.

Minutes ticked past, and Roy began to grind his teeth, tense with frustration until, one-by-one, the men under his command filtered back to him. One of them, a round-faced lieutenant called Steele began to speak, not bothering with a salute as he outlined the situation. 'Twelve guards in total on the periphery, sir. Two dead, the other ten bound and gagged in the stables.'

'Were any of them alchemists?' Al asked, frowning as the soldier shrugged.

'No way to be sure, but they all went for their guns as the first line of defense. Not that they got a chance to shoot.' Steele grinned, jerking his head towards one of the dilapidated sheds. 'I've left three men to stand guard. They're well out of sight, and all the doors are shut to muffle any noise our prisoners try to make.' He scratched his head, turning to the woman on his left. 'Harris here left one of the flare guns. They men will give us enough warning of anything amiss, even if it's the last thing they do.'

Roy nodded, feeling a brief spark of gratitude for Marlow's sensible men. Most soldiers were grudging when being passed off to another command, however temporary the situation, but here he found something like respect. It was just as well, as Roy doubted he would have been able to react in a rational manner to anyone who was anything but cooperative.

'I noticed something by one of the trucks, sir,' the woman called Harris said, fidgeting apologetically as she became the centre of attention. 'I only caught a glimpse as I was going past, but the window's broken and there was blood on the ground.' She licked her lips, narrowing her eyes before she added. 'Fresh, I think. It looked too wet to be an old stain.'

'Show me.'

Harris obliged immediately, keeping her body low and braced for attack as she crept around the blunt, ramshackle wall of the nearby shed and gestured up the driveway to where the cars stood. There was more than one, but even from this distance Roy could see the stain she had mentioned. It looked like ink on the white gravel, and something unearthly trembled down his spine as he crept closer, determined to get a better look.

'It's the nearest vehicle for someone running from the house,' Hughes murmured, meeting Roy's eyes with a frown. 'An escaping disciple, maybe?'

Roy reached out his hand, feeling the cool press of the bonnet against his gloved palm. 'It can't have happened more than an hour ago, but the engine's cool.'

'I don't think they ever got in, sir.' Hawkeye reached out to the door, tracing her finger around the bullet hole in the metal. 'Someone stopped them before they could get this far. There's not enough blood for a fatal body wound, and not enough bits for a headshot.' The lieutenant shrugged, catching Fuery's baffled look. 'It was shot at close range to go through a person and the car door as well. If that went through someone’s head, the force would blow the back of their skull off.'

She hunkered down, keeping out of sight of the house as she plucked an empty casing from the floor and turned it over in her fingers. Soldiers knew the general idea of bullet wounds and firing a shot, but it was a brief foundation of knowledge. Hawkeye was a sniper, and Roy had learned years ago to respect her vast experience. She could look at a bullet and see a story where others only saw an implement of death.

'The caliber is the same the police use in their weapons,' she reported, lifting her eyes to meet Roy's gaze. 'It was probably fired by Myers or one of his men. They were the only disciples in Lansdowne Crescent who used guns. The others used alchemy or their fists.'

'May I see?' He hunkered down next to her, his right hand reaching out to take the casing as his left fingertips rested on the ground to keep his balance. There was a brief moment to recognise the faint slipperiness of blood seeping through his gloves before every sense became overloaded by the pulling sensation of the dead bond. His breaths choked in his throat as his heart drummed beneath his ribs. The scent of blood and Automail oil cloyed in his nose while steady, shallow gasps, so at odds with his own uneven pants, hissed in his ears.

His shoulder blazed, and his right arm and left leg — so light and disturbing since the bond had been broken — suddenly took on the dragging, leaden burden of metal limbs. The world was spinning in every possible direction, so intense that Roy had to close his eyes, dragging his hands up to his temples and pressing his forehead to his upraised knee as he forced himself to breathe, ignoring the whispered concerns of his men as he concentrated on remembering who he was.

Finally, the confusing melee of impressions left him, and only the lingering sensation of a cool floor at his back and a vast, cavernous space around him impinged for a few seconds longer before that, too, was gone.

'It's Ed's,' he managed to croak, wishing he could swallow away the sickly sweet taste of some kind of drug in his mouth. 'The blood is Ed's.'

No one asked him if he was certain, though he could feel the uncertainty of those men who were not always under his command. Instead everyone shifted, looking towards the waiting edifice of the house. It stood at the peak of the drive, a brooding menace, and somewhere in there Ed was at Danner's mercy, drugged and bleeding but still furious beneath it all.

Roy went to move, snarling in the back of his throat as Al grabbed his sleeve in an unrelenting fist. The younger Elric seemed unperturbed by Roy's barely contained ferocity as he shook his head, gesturing up the driveway towards the main door. 'They took him in the front. Look at the blood trail.'

It was easy to follow his gaze and notice the faint black specks on the gravel. Ed had been bleeding enough to drip, and it plotted his course like a trail of breadcrumbs. The gravel was disturbed at first: he had struggled, but then they must have picked him up. The clues of his presence vanished, and Roy fought to remain calm as his head whirled with fear.

'Ed tried to get away, and that means Danner won't hang around long to finish his dirty work. We need to get inside that house now. He's in a large room with a cold floor. I know that much.' Roy paused, recalling that moment when he had almost been at Ed's side once more. He did not see any of it, but there had been an unexpected impression of light. 'It was bright. Not just candles, but lamps.'

'Did you get anything else?' Al asked eagerly, watching Roy's expression intently. 'Do you think Ed felt the same thing you did? The same kind of connection?'

Roy's breath stuttered in his throat as he considered the idea. When the bond had been whole he would not have doubted it for a second, but now all that remained was the vast canyon where the torrent of light and energy had once flowed. He had touched Ed's blood and felt, for a moment, Ed's soul present alongside his, but he had no idea if Ed had felt the same thing.

When he shrugged, Al just nodded, shuffling back slightly to allow Hughes to lean forward and whisper suggestions. ‘Danner might not have started his ceremony yet, but with any luck many of his followers will be busy with the preparations. Still, we can’t be careless or hasty.’ He gripped Roy’s wrist in apology, no doubt knowing that all Roy wanted to do was surge forward and tear the place apart. ‘The longer we can maintain the element of surprise, the better. There’ll be at least one other entrance besides the front door. It’s that kind of place.’

Up ahead, something howled, its ghostly cry carrying up to the stars and making the hairs on the back of Roy’s neck stand on end as more joined in. For a moment, the soldiers all fell breathless, waiting for the eerie wail to die away. At last, silence returned, and Havoc took a deep breath, reaching absently for a cigarette before thinking better of it. ‘That came from the east side of the house.’

‘Dogs,’ Steele confirmed, pointing towards the dark side of the building. ‘I saw the kennels from a distance. We’re downwind here, so if we stay well away, they should stay quiet.’

Roy grimaced, not liking the unpredictability the animals’ presence added to the situation, but they had no other alternative. There was nothing they could do to sedate the creatures, and shooting them might keep them quiet, but someone was sure to hear the noise of the guns and raise the alarm.

‘Do you have a map of this place?’ he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he battled to maintain his composure. ‘Blueprints, anything?’

‘Nothing that straightforward, sir,’ Falman whispered apologetically. ‘Only an old map from a couple of centuries ago, and it was crude at best.’

‘Then we head to the west side.’ Roy took a deep breath, rubbing absently at his aching chest. ‘A place like this will have cellars and servant’s quarters. Somewhere, there’s a way in we can use.’

They moved with care, clinging to the sparse shadows the tide of moonlight left for them, and with every sense on high alert for any sign of danger ahead. A cool breeze swept across Roy's face, cooling the anxious sweat that glistened on his brow. A vixen shrieked out in the fields, and when a cloud drifting over the moon's full face it only made the tension in the air increase, pulling taut as they inched closer to the house.

Roy's boots crunched on some dead weeds in what had once been a rose bed, and he pressed his back hard to the stone wall of the house as he paused, allowing his men a moment to collect themselves. Shutters and drapes barred every window, but even though the rooms within were hidden from sight, occasional sounds still filtered through. They were faint, but when Roy closed his eyes and forced himself to listen, he could hear the hum of human voices: not chanting as they had been at Edil Park, but speaking in murmurs.

They were not blissful prayers: even if he could not make out the words, the tone spoke volumes. Something was amiss among Danner's disciples. Where there had once been faith was now uncertainty, and Roy shared a quick, hopeful glance with Hughes. Directionless followers were prone to panic. Anything unexpected could throw the whole scene into chaos, and that was something they could use to their advantage.

'Sir.' Harris was standing at the corner of the wall, peering along the west side. 'There's a cellar hatch here. Looks like a good way in.'

'Good work.' Roy kept his head ducked, creeping under windows and never moving more than an inch from the wall. For all he knew they had already been spotted, but no voices cried out. He had to assume they were safe, at least for now. His steps quickened with hope as he approached Harris' side, peering down at the wooden doors set into a concrete frame in the soil. They looked old and dilapidated, barred from the outside, but even though the wood was almost crumbling to dust, Roy could still sense something humming in the air just above it.

'It's an array,' Al whispered, hunkering down and peering at the circle, 'but not a very good one. Whoever did it didn't think it through. Has anyone got any chalk?'

Hughes, Hawkeye and Falman all patted their pockets, groping for the slim white stick Al requested. Roy smiled at their forethought; it was a habit most soldiers who worked with alchemists acquired. Normally he carried some himself, but access to Ed's array-less alchemy had spoiled him and left him unprepared.

'What do you need the chalk for?' he asked as Al began to draw. 'Can't you just clap?'

Al's shoulders shifted, and his eyes did not lift from the wood as he worked. 'Normally, I would, but if the array is drawn out, I can be certain I'm getting it right. I don't want to make a mess of it, especially considering what's at stake.'

'If it goes wrong?' that was Hughes, already taking a wary step backwards. 'What happens to us?'

'It'll sound a kind of alarm,' Al whispered. 'Primitive, but it does the trick. Everyone will come running, and we might never get to Brother in time.' He completed the design, swiping his fingers over his forehead and leaving a streak of chalk before he boldly pressed his hands against the design. He had enclosed the circle within another of his own, and Roy watched the cool blue of Al's alchemy overwhelm the red like water drawing heat from newly forged metal. Within seconds, the inner array was dead, and Al breathed a sigh of relief as he cocked his head, no doubt listening for anyone on the other side.

At the nod of his head, Roy and Hughes moved forward, easing aside the bar and folding open the hatchway until they could see crude steps leading down into the gloom. The scent of damp earth filled Roy’s nose, reminding him of a freshly turned grave, and he drew in a deep breath as he took the first step.

Hawkeye should probably have gone in front, or Havoc, but those tired old procedures chafed on his raw nerves: shackles tightening around him until he almost choked. No, he had to move, had to keep going, because now it felt like he would die if he stopped. Adrenaline, fear, hope and desperation were all that sustained him. Like someone spinning plates, he felt that if he took a moment to pause and think about what he was doing, the whole lot would come crashing down, leaving him helpless to continue.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust from silken moonlight to the oppressive subterranean night, but gradually he began to pick out faint shapes in the gloom. Using the torch was out of the question. Anyone up ahead would see the beam long before Roy or his men came across them, but perhaps a tiny flame?

The heat caressed his palm, and Roy breathed a sigh of relief. It was like stepping into sunlight after a terrible storm. The pain in his body eased a little, and the labour of his heart seemed to lessen. Living hurt, but alchemy did not, and Roy was glad of the strength as he shielded the flame with his other hand and led the way.

Labyrinthine corridors twisted seemingly at random, but it seemed they were alone. Every time they came across a door, they cleared the room beyond. There were storerooms and cupboards, a giant furnace room with the stove cold and quiet, and a myriad of forgotten places, thick with cobwebs and a dense film of dust, but not another living soul seemed to share their space.

More than once Roy found himself straining to hear anything from the house above, but the dense ceiling yielded no clues, and they were left to creep along in breathless silence. With every passing step, the atmosphere thickened, and the maze of corridors only confused them further. It was only when Roy’s boot crunched on broken glass that he looked down to see the smashed oil lamp.

A little further ahead, he saw a door flung wide, sagging on its hinges, and something in him growled in satisfaction at the destruction. It had to have been Ed. Somehow he could not imagine even a reprobate disciple having that much passion. He could see blood on the wood where it had smacked someone in the face, probably a guard, and the scorch marks on the floor told their own story. He had still had enough of a mind left to put to good use, and Roy's heart thrilled with relief.

'This way.' Al pointed down one of the corridors. To Roy, it looked like all the rest, but as he approached, the tiny glow of the flame in his palm shed more light on the candles. They had been brutally extinguished; there was nothing reverent about it. There were also a few footprints and flecks of ash. The oil that had not burned out had started to seep into the stone, leaving a permanent impression of Ed's boots. It trailed off after a few steps, but it was a good start.

'How do we know it won't just lead us back outside?' Steele asked. 'Major Elric was hoping to escape, wasn't he?'

'Because I believe that's towards the centre of the house.' Roy turned to look at Falman, who was holding a pencil and small pad of paper rather than a weapon.

The warrant officer shrugged apologetically, clearing his throat as he turned around a neat and precise little map, surprisingly comprehensible for having been sketched in the almost-dark. 'I thought it best we did not get lost, sir. I believe we're getting close to the middle of the house and, hopefully, closer to the killer and his men. This way.'

It did not take Falman long to guide them, and, for a while at least, the signs of Ed's destruction remained. He had done his best to slow down any pursuers, and only the knowledge that he had ultimately failed drowned out the lightness in Roy's chest. All the time they had been on their way, he had been worried about the Ed they would find. Now it seemed that, despite Danner's best efforts, Ed was still in fighting form, or had been until someone had put a bullet in him.

Roy's heart squeezed in fear, but he shook it away. Danner would not have allowed someone to mortally wound Ed, not with all that power at stake. As it was the priest was probably furious that such precious blood had been shed. Perhaps that would make him clumsy and panicky in his procedures and he'd make a mess of things. Maybe he would get the array wrong and Ed would be left unharmed. It seemed a slim hope, but right now Roy was happy to clutch at straws.

Abruptly, Falman came to a halt, and they all paused to stare at the set of steps with a door at their peak. It definitely looked too thin to be an external door, and Roy caught his breath as he finally heard voices filtering down to them. It was an argument, from the sound of it, but one being kept quiet so as not to draw attention.

Quietly, Roy eased his way to the front, ignoring Hawkeye’s frown as he crept up the steps and pressed his ear to the wood, holding his breath as he listened intently.

‘I think they’ve lost it. Danner and Myers both!’ The man’s voice was fierce, and Roy knew the type: a trouble-maker, always questioning the orders of superiors behind their backs. ‘The brat tries to get away, and rather than just doing their voodoo they’re eating feasts and saying prayers. It’s all bullshit!’

‘It’s for show,’ the other person pointed out. ‘Even you have enough of a brain to know that we need those disciples to do what they’re told. There’s already unrest. Danner’s promised them everything, and if it’s not done right it might be us they feed to that array.’ There was a metallic noise, like someone shifting a gun belt, and Roy scowled as he struggled to hear more. ‘Just do your job. Check on the guards outside and make sure nothing goes wrong. Listen, they’re already starting that stupid chant. It won’t be long now.’

Adrenaline shot along Roy’s nerves as sweat pricked his spine. They were lucky that Danner had held off using Ed as long as this, but as the two men moved away he could hear the murmuring voices becoming rhythmic and droning in the same, familiar chant Danner had used at Edil Park.

Roy’s muscles turned bright white with heat, and the air locked in his chest as he spat a curse. ‘We’re out of time. We need to get to Ed now!’ He closed his eyes, trying to hear himself think over the wail of panic in his head. ‘They’re going to check on the guards. We have maybe five minutes before they know we’re here, if that. Once they’re aware of our presence, then any real advantage we had is gone.’

There was just enough light to see the men nod, and he felt Hawkeye nudge him aside, bracing herself against the door as the soldiers prepared for a fight. If he was honest with himself, Roy had never really believed they would make it this far undetected, but as his knuckles tightened in his gloves, he knew the time had come to put that advantage to good use.

‘Don’t shoot unless you have to,’ Hughes reminded them, his voice a whisper that merely shaped the air. ‘The closer we get to Ed, the better chance we have of getting out of this alive. We don’t know how many we’re up against, but it’s safe to say we’ll be outnumbered.’ The faint light of Roy’s flames glinted off of Hughes’ glasses. ‘Roy, Al, you two deal with the alchemists if you can. We’ll take care the rest. Capture prisoners if possible. We’ll need them after all this is over.’

Roy kept the darkness of his thoughts to himself. Now was not the time to voice doubts about their likely success, even if they sat on his shoulders like wet wool, dank and heavy. Danner had come this far, and he would be desperate to see his work through to the end. Both he and Roy would fight until there was nothing left to give. What choice was there?

Both of them had too much to lose.

He watched as Hawkeye leaned against the door, pushing it open inch by inch. The barrel of her gun led the way, and the light from the hallway beyond seemed bright and unnatural after the dark confines of the cellars. It shone off black and white tiles, uncomfortably similar to those at Edil Park, and gleamed from the glossy faces of the portraits that lined the wall.

Creeping forward, Roy scanned every corner of the entrance hall, his body tense for the inevitable cry of alarm as they were seen, but none came. If it were not for the eerie chanting and the glow of the lamps, he could almost believe the place was empty.

Mutely, he gestured to one of the well-lit passageways. It seemed better kept than the rest, and the voices of the disciples acted like a beacon, drawing them ever closer. Roy knew that half his men would be facing the other way, backing up as they watched the rear for anyone approaching, but so far they remained undisturbed.

Outside, a flare erupted, its bright light blazing through the cracks in the shutters. The chatter of gunfire cut through the air, punctuating the peace with brutal finality. Roy’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he realised he could not see the conflict outside. Whoever was out there had found out what became of the last guards, and running footsteps crunched over the gravel.

Upstairs, above their heads, doors slammed open and thudding footsteps ran towards them as others were alerted to their presence. Roy saw one gunman lean over the banister, and there was barely time to shout a warning as he pulled the trigger. The bullet sparked off the tiled floor of the hallway before taking out one of the candles in the chandelier, forcing Roy and his men to scatter as they dove for cover.

‘Steele, you and your men hold them off!’ Roy yelled, no longer bothering with stealth. ‘We’ll try and get to Ed!’

The carpet muffled his sprinting footsteps as he darted along the corridor, his breath catching in his throat as he realised that the chanting had grown louder, as if it was trying to drown out the sounds of the battle. Behind him, people were shouting and screaming out in pain, dying as they were struck down by one bullet after another. It was more likely to be the disciples than the military: Steele and his men were better trained and equipped, but all it took was one lucky shot.

Up ahead, a door opened, and Roy skidded to a halt in time to glimpse a frightened, pale face before the fire burst from his fingertips, blooming against the wood as the door was hastily sealed again. He heard a lock click into place as the paint peeled back and the varnish bubbled beneath the heat. Something roared deep inside him, and he snapped again, intensifying the heat of the fire until the sweat was running down his temples. It was only Hawkeye’s arm on his shoulder that made him pause.

'Sir, listen!'

'— In the ballroom. Hurry!' The voice was practically a wail, shaking with fear and suppressed tears, but dimly Roy realised they were trying to help. Right now he did not have time to question their motives or judgement, all he could do was surge blindly forward, trying to ignore the first growing stench of alchemy in the air.

A pair of white double doors stood at the far end of the corridor, their brass handles gleaming in the lamplight. They were delicate things, more for show than any function, and Roy barely heard Al's warning cry as he burst through like a bull on a charge.

The guns fired as the floor rolled, tiles cracking and turning as the earth itself moved to protect him. Cracks opened in the walls as Al’s alchemy tore through the room. Some of the floor tumbled away beneath the onslaught, collapsing in to the hollow rooms beneath and revealing the cellar's corridors like scars below. Plaster rained down from the ceiling and the faint chime of the chandelier could be heard over the dying echo of gunfire.

There was no time to thank Al for him impromptu barricade. It had saved Roy's life, he knew that, but there would be a moment for gratitude later. The need to be near Ed was overwhelming now, making him sick and dizzy with its power. He was reduced to a thing of nature, caring only for the next breath and the next burst of blood in his veins. His alchemy surged forward, blind and volatile as his men began to fire on the hapless disciples on the other side of the makeshift wall.

Some raced forward, ducking around the barrier to take the soldiers down, but they were picked off before they could even pull the trigger or entombed in a hasty sarcophagus of grit and stone by Al's efforts. People were shouting and jeering on the other side of the room, but Roy was as deaf to their words as he was blind to his surroundings. All he knew was that Ed was not here, but beyond them, and they stood in his way.

The next breath was slow and measured as he stepped around the protection of the wall and snapped his fingers. Like an eagle taking flight, the fire swept outwards, tortuously hot. He saw faces, skin peeling back and eyes bulging as they saw their final moments. Guns twisted and melted, but there were always more souls to feed the fire. Several times Roy had to duck back behind the shelter: some element of self preservation remained, but it was hanging by a thread, and when Myers’ voice rang across the room, a snarl burst free of Roy's throat.

'You're a hard man to kill, Mustang! What more do we have to do? Put a stake through your heart?' A bullet skipped overhead, thudding into one of the paintings and sending it clattering to the floor. The painted eyes stared at Roy blankly, and memory stirred, releasing a cool tide of logic in its wake as a missing puzzle piece fell in to place. The flames in Roy's mind dwindled, still bright, but no longer a wild fire beyond his control, and a strange smirk twisted his lips as he dropped his hands to his sides.

'I’ve been wondering what was in it for you, Myers,’ Roy called out. ‘Now I know. He promised you the old estates back in your hands. What were you, a bastard son with no official claim to the Catticutt lands?'

It was a lucky guess, and Roy would never have thought of it if it were not for the portrait. There was enough of a resemblance captured in oil paint on canvas to draw the conclusion, and the inward snatch of Myers' breath was all the confirmation he needed.

Another shot went off, and Hawkeye leaned out, taking aim and dispatching the gunman with a single squeeze of the trigger. She looked pale and queasy, and it took Roy a moment to notice the lingering smell of barbecue in the air: the end result of his handiwork. Cautiously he risked a glance around the makeshift barricade, taking in the stalemate in which they had found themselves.

It was a large reception room, almost twenty feet in length. He and his men had the doorway at their backs and Al's embankment, now riddled and chipped with bullet holes, to hide behind. Myers and his men had taken shelter behind whatever furniture they could find: dust-covered settees and overturned tables. They hunkered down, some reloading with the skilled patience of professionals while others trembled in their borrowed robes, staring at the carnage that besmirched the middle of the floor.

Ishbal had taught Roy the destructive might of his own alchemy, but he forced himself to look, briefly, at the twisted remains of human life before ducking behind the safety of the barrier. He knew that, if he was lucky enough to live through this with his mind intact, there would be nights when the images of his power and its consequences would haunt him, but his mind was locked in a crystal lattice of priorities. Ed mattered. Everything else was of no consequence. Until Fullmetal was safe again, Roy could not even begin to make the room for his guilt in his own mental landscape; he simply did not have the strength.

'Whatever he has promised you, Myers, Danner won't hand it over. He's using you, just as much as he's using Major Elric.'

Myers' laugh was cold and clinical, almost unconcerned, and Roy could hear the indolence in his voice as he spoke up. 'I shot him, you know. That major. He was trying to get away, and Danner almost let him do it. Do you really think the priest would have got this far without me?'

There was a scream from the hallway where Steele and his men still fought, and Roy swallowed as he tried to concentrate on the task ahead of him. Myers and his men were blocking the way into the ballroom. Another set of double doors was set into the wall behind them, and he knew that if he could just take out the Chief of Police, then he could make the most of the chaos that followed.

'Your men are dying, Mustang. You think we're so useless we can't take you down? Is it really worth it? All this for one major?'

'There's more than one life at stake here, and you know it!' The snarl made Roy's jaw ache, and he clenched his teeth before jerking his head to Hawkeye, signalling without words that Myers was her top priority. 'If Danner binds Ed, then the lives of the city are in his hands. He could kill you all, and there will be nothing you can do to stop him.'

'He'll still be a man, Mustang, just like you. Easy enough to kill.'

The grenade bounced off the wall, spinning to a wobbling halt by Roy's boot. The pin was gone, and there was not a moment to think. He lashed out instinctively, kicking it away before diving in the opposite direction, screaming at his men to get down as the explosion roared outwards.

Flames singed his hair and baked his skin, but they flowed around his out-stretched gloves, moving like water hitting a glass bowl. Shrapnel cut into his cheek and arm as scorch marks climbed the wall like strange, black mold, leaving charred plaster and tattered wallpaper in its wake. Worse, Al's makeshift barricade had been blown to bits, sending splinters of sharp tile in every direction. Their shield was gone, and the rain of bullets was only a heartbeat behind.

Roy saw Hughes fold off to his left, knocked down even as he struggled to get up. Hawkeye was bleeding from a gash in her neck, but the gun in her hand remained steady as she ducked behind a large urn, aiming and picking off Myers' men with ease. Roy rolled behind a nearby couch, dragging in a stuttering breath as Al joined him. Blood matted his hair to his head, and his face was ash grey.

'Fuery and Falman are both down,' he hissed, nodding towards the two prone bodies.

'And Hughes,' Roy whispered, trying to think around the shrieking fury and panic in his head. 'I'll draw their fire and try and get to Ed, you get my men to safety. If they're not dead already, all it would take is a stray bullet to finish them off.'

Breda and Havoc were both ducked behind a massive, wilting parlour palm, almost lying on the floor to avoid being shot. As soon as they saw the look in Roy's eye, they knew what he planned to do, and Roy watched them both take a deep breath, wiping sweat and worse from their eyes before taking aim.

Alchemy sparked along Roy’s nerves, igniting the arrays on his gloves and bursting forth in a bright, red swathe of heat. Without waiting for the flames to die, Roy jumped forward, snapping again and again as he rushed across the intervening space, closer to Myers and the door that blocked him from Ed's presence.

The smoke and vermilion fire did what it was supposed to. In all the haze it was impossible to make out friend from foe, and though Roy pressed his sleeve to his mouth to block out the stench, the thick fumes were still catching in his throat as he set light drapes and pictures: anything that would burn. The more confusion the better.

He kept low to the floor, flinching every time another gun fired. Flames killed slowly; even a man who was burning to death would have time to pull a trigger, and Roy used the looming shapes of makeshift furniture, as well as the shifting haze, to shield himself. Tears swarmed in his eyes, summoned up by the sting of the biting air, but he could see Myers up ahead. He was twisting around in confusion, shouting orders and shooting at shadows. The chanting beyond the door continued, louder and more panicked now. Danner had to know the tide was turning; he had to know his time was almost up.

And so did Myers.

With a snap of his fingers, Roy collapsed the flame inwards, turning their fury onto one man. The Chief knew he was going to die, Roy could see it in his eyes as their gazes locked. Even before the starving fire hit, he was scrambling for some kind of escape, dragging at the other disciples in the hopes to throw them into its path and save himself, but it was a useless effort.

His screams harmonised with the roar of the flames, louder than any bullet as he was devoured by the fury of Roy’s alchemy. The creature baying for blood in Roy’s mind fell quiet, calmed by vengeance as other disciples fell to the bullets of his men.

They could not kill them all, and already those left were starting to surrender, but Roy knew the military well enough to know that the only cell Myers could not return from would be the grave. All those men he had corrupted to Danner's cause and all those murders he had helped conceal — some things could not be punished by something so ethereal as civil justice, and Roy had never intended the traitor to come out of this alive.

Abruptly, the ground trembled, and the stench of raw, elemental alchemy filled his nose like ozone before a lightning strike. The hairs on Roy's arms prickled beneath his sleeves, and the curse in his parched throat died unspoken as he lunged for the door, not caring about Myers’ corpse or the chaos that swarmed through the room behind him. All he could think of was Ed.

His fingers brushed the brass handle as the world exploded. The doors flew off their hinges, slamming Roy backwards. Around him he heard people screaming in confusion and pain as the light seared their eyes and the power clawed at their bodies. His back hit the floor with bruising force, and only instinct kept him rolling, crawling blindly away from the surging tide of furious power before it consumed him.

Prising his eyes open, he tried to see anything ahead of him. Bodies lay in the haze, melting away to feed the demands of the transmutation. The tide had paused a few inches from his foot, sparing him from the spitting, hissing interface of energy, but most of Myers’ men had been devoured.

There was no sign of Ed or Danner, only the eerie glow of alchemy that was never meant to be seen by man. After all this effort, all this pain, they had failed. The priest had activated the array, and Roy could only stare blankly into the saffron fog.

‘We’re too late,’ Al whispered from where he stood just behind Roy’s sprawled form. ‘It’s already started.’

With a grunt, Roy forced himself to his feet, glaring at Al through the fall of his hair. His heart was bruised in his chest, clenching with agony as his breath hissed between his lips, but that was not the only sensation. Beneath it all, humming like a distant symphony, he could feel Ed’s presence, alive and fighting even as the world went to hell.

Taking a deep breath, Roy turned towards the transmutation, squaring his shoulders as he braced himself to move forward.

‘It might have begun,’ he admitted, lifting his chin and ignoring the sweat that trailed down his temple, ‘but it’s not over yet, not if I can help it.’

In the silence of his head, he offered up a prayer, not to any organised religion, but to the man that so many of Danner’s followers had worshiped.

_Hang on, Ed. Just hang on._


	27. Chapter 27

The world swam in a haze of fog — the mist parting to reveal slivers of reality before closing in on Ed once more. Danner had drugged him again, desperation over-ruling caution. It only made the situation worse, somehow. Helpless and furious, Ed could only growl to himself as his shoulder burned and his throat felt raw from the scrape of his curses. He had been so close to getting away, and then fucking Myers had pulled the trigger of his fucking gun...

Ed groaned, shifting uselessly against the floor. The stone was cold at his back, kept from his skin only by the single layer of silk on which he lay. It should have been luxurious, but he knew it was just a nod to the sensibilities of the true believers: as much of an altar as Danner could incorporate into his design. No doubt it would be removed before the process began.

They had taken his clothes too, moving his lethargic limbs as if he were a holy doll as they clad him in white pants and a loose matching tunic. They had bound the hole in his shoulder while they were at it, so Ed did not even have the sick pleasure of making a mess of the clothes. The bullet had gone straight through, so at least no one had to dig shrapnel out of their god. The bleeding had already slowed to a sulking ooze, staunched by the bandage, but it still hurt like a bitch, buzzing with pain as he struggled against the shackles that pinned him close to the floor.

He glared at the double metal hoops, knowing that Danner would not have taken any risks — not this time. There would not be any weaknesses to exploit. He was well and truly trapped in the middle of the ballroom floor. The blank white marble stretched away into the distance, marred only by the wide, complicated sweep of the array.

Ed blinked, trying to force his eyelids to open again as he watched the priest prowl around the room, his entire being focussed on the design that caught Ed in its grasp. It was the culmination of years of work, and even though Ed was trapped in its claws, he could understand the scent of frenzied pride and anxiety that seemed to fill the air. If it went right, Danner would have everything he wanted, but if it went wrong...

A cold smirk crossed Ed's lips. If it went wrong, then at least it meant he would have won, even if it left them both dead in its wake.

The clatter of plates and cutlery in another room off to the left disturbed the peace, and Ed's stomach growled as the perfume of cooked meat washed over him again. There was a feast for the disciples: a parody of holy ritual. It was meant to be a celebration, but there was no laughter or chatter. It sounded as if they ate in silence, and Ed wondered how many of them doubted what was to come. Would there be mercy there, somewhere within the forest of grey robes, or would they follow their father to the end?

Danner had excused himself from the feasting, though Ed was sure he had eaten something. The man seemed obsessed with the balance of strength — with dominance over submission — and Ed grimaced in loathing. The strength of the bond mates was never something he had really considered. There had been hints of it in the murders, but there had been nothing like master and slave when it came to him and Roy.

The thought of Roy sent another knife through Ed's heart, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe around the harsh knot of agony in his chest. Earlier, Danner had given him hope by suggesting his method of breaking the bond was less than perfect. It had been nothing but a splinter of diamond in the darkness of Ed's grief, but now it was starting to fade, winking out like a dying star and leaving him with nothing but night.

He would stop Danner once the array was activated. One way or the other he would rip the fucker apart, but he would have to throw down his life in payment for the power it would use. Part of him ached at the thought, but another, more treacherous voice within said:

_Perhaps Roy will be waiting?_

Ed had never been a spiritual person. The whole reason he was in this mess was because of religion of a sort, but the bond had been something he could really believe in, and the world he and Roy had created in their dreams had been something like paradise. He wished he could get back there one more time. He had tried enough, but either the drugs or starvation plunged him beyond its reach.

Wrinkling his nose, Ed swallowed the lump in his throat, opening his eyes to stare at the painted ceiling. There was a large chandelier overhead, the crystals sparkling like an explosion of stars, and Ed lost himself in its shine as he struggled to face what was coming. There was no point in fighting for freedom, not now. Even if Danner had not tethered him so securely to the floor, the combination of blood-loss and hunger had left Ed shaking and weak. He doubted he would even make it to the door before he was dragged back in to captivity.

He did not have a chance.

Abruptly, something flashed across his eyes, igniting every nerve. Ed's spine arched with surprise, twisting against the floor as the bond sprang into ghostly life within him. Where there had been darkness there was an echo of a glow. He could feel cool night air against his face and something faintly rough on his fingertips. His chest suffused itself with a riot of pain, and he sensed the bulk of a vehicle to his right and warm, human bodies all around.

As suddenly as they had come, the sensations fled, leaving the scent of sparks and spice in Ed's nose and the breath panting wildly in his chest. The bond vanished again, leaving only the abyss where it had once flowed, and Ed's eyes gradually focussed again on the blank canvas of the ballroom. It could have been a hallucination, something caused by the drug and his own fragile mental state, but even as he thought it, Ed knew he had not been mistaken.

Roy was alive, and he was here.

Ed gasped, sliding his gaze to where Danner still paced back and forth, his lips moving mutely as he checked over every aspect of his masterpiece. He kept rubbing his hands through his hair and glancing at the clock at the far end of the room. Ed did not know how much longer he had before Danner called in the other disciples, but where there had been hopelessness, there was now only the burning, rough-edged craving to be free and back in Roy's arms. A faint, pulling sensation that Ed had written off as the keenings of an aching body had grown much stronger, almost magnetic. If he shut his eyes he could feel the drag of it like the moon on the water: irresistible.

Licking his dry lips, he tried to recall all the details of the brief connection, forcing himself to focus despite the excited, frightened thrum of his heart. They had been outside, but the faint tang of blood had mixed with the fresh fragrance of the night. Broken glass on gravel and the bulk of a truck: they were in the driveway! Roy was incredibly close, and the corpse of the bond had responded, like an old door swelling in summer as it recalled what it was like to be a tree.

Ed's automail arm jerked on its own, wrenching at the restraints that held him in place. It was a fitful, animal move, and he felt Danner's attention hone in on him. The repulsive weight of Danner's gaze made Ed's skin crawl, and he clenched his teeth tight as the priest approached, taking care not to tread on any of the lines of his creation.

'Is your head clearing, My Lord?' he asked conversationally, prodding at the rings that held Ed to the floor experimentally, checking each one was sound. 'Good. We shall both need to have our wits about us for the ceremony.' He smiled blissfully, and Ed saw the older man's chest rise and fall with a sigh of relief. 'You almost escaped us, though what you have to run back to I don't know. Where would you go, unbonded as you are? You must realise that your soul needs to be bound again for you to survive.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Unless you want to be like that jibbering wreck Garrick? I understand he was quite wild when he was found.'

Rage sparked behind Ed's eyes as he snarled, 'Why didn't you leave him alone? Hadn’t you done enough to him? Had to send your pet to finish him off?'

'An ugly loose end,’ Danner replied. ‘Besides, Myers was keeping an eye on you and your partner.' He spat the word as if it repulsed him. 'While you were in this city, so close to me, I could feel your presence.' His smile was glassy and alien, and Ed wondered how tenuous Danner's grip on sanity was. 'The _Saffron Soul_ called to me, but then you left and I could not follow. We could not loose track of you and the general, so I contacted Myers and asked him to keep tabs on you. It was him who put Garrick out of his misery.'

'He told us everything,' Ed whispered. 'Everything he could.'

'And look at the good it did you.' Danner replied, turning away and ambling back across his design, absently checking it again as he went.

Ed thought of the mural on the wall and the story it told: his father's clues littering the old temple and the altered array on Garrick's wrist — saving his sanity before it could expire entirely. Hohenheim had made sure that the legacy of the _Saffron Soul_ was not only one of poison and pain, and Danner knew nothing of it, just as he knew nothing of Roy's continuing survival.

'More good than you realise,' he hissed, and when Danner looked back, puzzled and curious, the smile on Ed's lips was feral. Maybe he did not have the upper hand, but he was waiting for his moment. Sooner or later, Danner would make a mistake, and he planned to rip the bastard to shreds in any way he could.

'You think you've won just because I'm lying here in chains? You've still got the alchemy to get right, and the Gate'll chew you up and spit you out,' Ed snarled, watching the flicker of emotions on Danner's face. The priest had witnessed his alchemists binding others to themselves, walking them through the steps, but Ed knew he had never stood in the middle of the transmutation himself. He had never stood before the Gate and hoped that all the power behind him would be enough to pay the price. Ed had done it, more than once, and every time he knew he was lucky to get out of it alive.

Except, as Danner simply smirked and walked away, refusing to rise to the bait, Ed's treacherous memory stirred. That first time at the Gate, as nothing but a child, he had been too overwhelmed to notice anything but ecstatic awe and terrifying pain. It still haunted his nights, the suffusing agony underlined by the deep, dark dread that it had all gone so horribly wrong. Yet every time since, when getting Al's body back and being bound to Roy, there had been a sense of something from the Gate — something human:

Recognition.

Before all this mess with the _Saffron Soul_ , he had thought it just knew the boy whose limbs it had devoured in return for knowledge, but now he was not so sure. His dad believed the stories about some kind of connection after all, and that mural had been seemed too ancient to be made up on a modern-day whim.

He did not know what Danner's array would do. Looking around he could see the differences from the one at Edil Park. This was more complex, and at least twice the size. Roy's bonding had been an experiment, one last trial run, but in all the time he had been bound to Ed, there had been nothing of the Gate between them. Had Danner simply not included that part before? Was there some kind of extra step that would only happen tonight, once the priest was in place?

He lifted his head, straining to look around from his limited position, and his heart sank as his mind went into overdrive. Most aspects of the array looked familiar — basic principles he knew better than his own face in the mirror — but closer to the centre, around the point at which he lay, the sigils took on a baffling meaning, blending modern science into ancient superstition, and a cold sweat broke out across Ed's skin as he struggled to see the design correctly.

Dimly, he became aware that the sounds of the feast had finished. People were talking in the next room, a worried, uncertain murmur that rose and fell like a tide, lapping at the walls of the ballroom and filling the vaulted ceiling with whispers. Ed could smell their fear like incense in the air, but as soon as Danner stepped forward, arms outstretched and the bright white of his robes gleaming in the light, the voices fell silent.

'Brothers! Sisters! The time has finally come to receive your long-awaited reward!’ He took a deep breath, eyes wide and staring as if high on the moment. ‘All your months of hard work, all of your sacrifices will finally come to fruition, and your every prayer will be answered once the ceremony is complete.'

'Liar!'

Ed's voice rasped up his throat, a bark of fury as he struggled against his restraints. He did not care if his effort of escape was fruitless. All he cared about was the fact that Roy was near. If he could buy them enough time, perhaps they would be in a position to throw all Danner's plans to shit. Even before the bond, Roy had been a cunning, determined bastard. He had more brains and courage than Danner and all his disciples put together, all he needed was the time to put whatever idea he had into action.

'He's not told you the truth about what happened at Edil Park,' he continued, wishing he could see the disciples. Yet they were behind him, a mere sensation of presence. 'What happened to those people, Danner? What happened when everything went wrong?'

Danner strode into Ed's line of sight, his face pale and pinched with fury. Yet there was nothing he could do. He had set up Ed on a pedestal, and if he raised a hand against him, the disciples' loyalty would shift in an instant.

Perfect.

'Well?' he challenged, watching the priest gaze thoughtfully at the array before shrugging his shoulders.

'They ascended, My Lord, as you know.'

'They died! Broken ribs and bone and skin, torn apart by the alchemy! It’ll happen again tonight, and you won't even be sorry, will you? You'll have what you wanted, and Myers and his like will get their reward. All those who really believe will be nothing but a bunch of inconvenient corpses.'

Danner's lips twisted into a sneer as a whisper raced around the room like a ripple in a pool. 'He is testing you; using fear to push your faith and ensure that you are deserving of the reward you will receive.' The priest smiled, spreading his hands benevolently. In that moment, all sign of evil and deception had gone from his face. He looked paternal, warm and welcoming to the worried souls who would soon provide the fuel for his plans. 'We have all come so far and fought so hard. Do not fall at the final hurdle. Think of all those who have already gone before you. They have reached the point of ascension and are eager for you to join them. Will you make them wait for an eternity?'

Ed could feel the disciples swaying like trees in a gale. Each of them had to be desperately searching for something, and perhaps they had been looking all their lives. They wanted to believe Danner's promises that Ed could give them what they wanted, but doubt lingered like a chill fog in the room, breathlessly waiting for one of them to make a move.

Ed's heart sank as one voice began to softly chant, the same low, melodious words that had filled the halls of Edil Park. Gradually, the others picked it up, moving in single file towards the edge of the array as Danner raised an eyebrow in Ed's direction and mutely shook his head as if in pity. The disciples had spent too long listening to their priest, and Ed knew well enough that the organised religion of Amestris spoke heavily of temptation. Gods played tricks with the souls of men, trying to lead them away from the path of righteousness: Danner used that to his advantage, and the disciples acted like a herd of animals, following the lead of one rather than standing out in independent rebellion.

Scanning the room frantically, Ed realised that the boy from earlier was missing. There was no sign of his pale, frightened face amidst the crowd, and something fluttered, frail and hopeful beneath Ed's ribs. It was a small consolation, but at least some of them had the sense to get out, even if they could not help him do the same.

He watched with cold, dead eyes as Myers and his men slipped past the other disciples, heading through some doors off to Ed's right and closing them tight. The bastard was keeping well out of the way, then. He would be back when the transmutation was over, and Ed grimaced as he promised himself that, somehow, he would make sure the treacherous chief of police got nothing but the punishment he deserved. Him and Danner both. Roy would see to that if Ed could not, of that he was sure.

The chant rose and fell around him, and Ed bit his lip, thinking frantically. He could not activate any arrays while still in restraints, but it seemed there was no way out, at least not here. Chains and rope never survived in the plane of the Gate. It stripped away unnecessary things, leaving humans shorn of the chattels of their world. If it came to it, Ed could take his chance there, but he would rather not leave it until the last minute. He wanted options, and with every second that ticked by, those were fading fast.

Gunfire split the air with its report, and Ed whipped his head around to stare at the door. The chanting stumbled, and Ed saw some disciples look fearfully towards the direction of the din, stepping away from their station at the edge of the array. Danner's voice cracked like a whip, ordering them back into place, and Ed hauled hard at the chains as he redoubled his efforts.

Roy was out there, he could feel him, and the constant chatter of one bullet after another was enough to make Ed's heart thunder in the base of his throat. He felt half sick as his wounded shoulder sent howls of pain along his nerves, but he paid it no mind as he twisted and writhed, mad with the need sprint to Roy's side.

If a bullet hit him, would Ed know it? He had already felt Roy die once — of that he was sure — but a sudden shout from the other side made Ed's heart squeeze hard. A voice, fierce and furious, but Roy's all the same. Smoke wisped under the door before another explosion shook the building, making the chandelier jingle and sway as the disciples stumbled to keep their footing.

'Don't move!' Danner screamed, racing forward and ripping the silk from beneath Ed's body, revealing more whorls and twists. These were engraved into the floor, permanent and unshifting, and Ed's breath caught in his throat as Danner fled back to his place. The priest collapsed to his knees; sweat gleaming on his forehead as he pressed his fingertips to the line of the array. Within seconds, like the beating of some great, giant pulse, the lines began to glow, filling with a sick, green light that flowed across the floor to catch Ed in its grasp.

He could feel the power building beneath him as the scent of smoke began to pollute the air, and he dragged in a deep breath, not caring if it made him cough as he thought of the man only a room away, fighting to get to him.

Ed's efforts had made the bullet hole bleed again, staining the white silk of the clothes with startling red. A couple of disciples noticed and shifted, alarmed by the presence of something so human, but they were already caught in the web of the design. Ed felt the power pull taut, snapping him tight in a cat's cradle of alchemy. His skin felt feverish and sweat trickled down his temples as he battled to be free.

Suddenly, the array sprang to life. It was a tsunami of energy, exploding outwards through the room in a blinding flash. Ed felt the disciples die, scores of lives flowing from broken bodies to feed the transmutation. It clawed at him, reaching down through flesh and bone to the vast, empty chasm where the bond had once been. He felt its presence in the hollow, aching space, violating the memory of the tether, and even as he roared in wordless fury, he felt something go wrong.

The purr of the array became a whine, and more dust fell from the chandelier as the air rumbled a warning. There was not enough power to keep it going, and Ed heard Danner scream in desperation, pushing his being into the design and driving it outwards, seeking more fuel.

Roy.

Ed yelled a warning, squinting through the fizzing, sparking mist to see the doors blow open, disintegrating into splinters in front of the wall of questing alchemy. He could not see anyone in the room beyond, but the array must have found some source of power, because the howls of pain quieted as the energy rocketed along the lines, weaving around him in a web of light before the transmutation burst into action.

The floor bucked beneath Ed's back, but the ballroom was already fading away. Walls vanished, and the giant chandelier burst into glittering dust which rained down on Ed like sand. The restraints around him were jerked free as the gargantuan transmutation ripped the floor apart. The array was falling to pieces, but Ed knew it had gone to far for it to matter. He could feel the electric sea around him and hear the sough of Danner's power as it burned through the air.

Hurriedly, Ed rolled away, struggling clumsily to his feet, but there was nowhere to run. The colours in the air burned out to a golden glow, coating everything like rich summer sunshine, and the wail of the astral gale was enough to force him to hunker down, one arm thrown over his eyes to protect them from the blazing light.

Suddenly the jaws of the array slammed shut, wrenching a yell of pain from Ed's throat as the force of it brought him to his knees and invisible spears of alchemy drove through him, questing deep into his core. He braced his sweat-slick palm against the floor as he tried to fight back, but the transmutation was too strong. It battered into him like the unforgiving ocean, drowning him with every breath he took as the sick glow of Danner's power thrust itself into him, filling the dark chasm with something that tore at Ed from the inside.

This was different from the bond he and Roy had shared — wrong on every level. This was not about unity, but domination, scouring away everything about Ed that made him himself and trying to obliterate it in the wrathful torrent, as if there was nothing of his own worth keeping. Danner was not only trying to tie them together, but he was attempting to supplant all of Ed's fierce will with something docile and meaningless: Something he could use for his own ends, nothing more.

Another blast sent Ed sprawling. He felt blurred, as if his outline had been washed away and all that made him an individual was scattered thin. There was no cool stone or burning array beneath his cheek to anchor him to reality or remind him that he was more than what Danner desired, and though he fought to drag himself free, it was as hopeless as a fly caught in a spider's web. All Danner's plans had come to fruition, and Ed was too weak to fight them.

A distant, tinny noise disturbed the swarm of alchemy, and Ed dragged his head upwards. It was almost too heavy to lift, his neck burned from the effort, but in a moment he was rewarded by a sound that cut through everything, cleaving through the dark coils of the clutching power and giving him a single bolt of strength: Roy's voice.

'Ed! Please!'

He had never heard Roy sound so desperate or afraid. It was a ghost of a cry, echoing over what seemed like a vast distance, but it sank deep into Ed's body, releasing his anger from the hasty cage of Danner's making and forcing him to his feet. Scanning the fog, he felt the transmutation continue to shudder around him, driving into him like a drill through his ribs.

Yet something was missing; not all of the alchemy had sprung to life, and Ed clenched his jaw as he realised the worst was still to come. Danner might be trying to bind their souls, but he had not yet activated the part that would give him the power of the Gate. For now, at least, Ed was only the Fullmetal Alchemist, and he had to stop Danner from going any further.

The light hurt his eyes, dancing and sparkling in front of him as he staggered forward, thrashing against the invisible ropes that tried to drag him back into their clutches. That fucking priest was here somewhere, bathed in the blood of hundreds whose only guilt had been to believe in Danner's words.

Back in the ballroom, Danner had been about twenty paces away at the edge of the array, but now there was no sense of distance or direction. Bile coated Ed's throat as he realised there was only one way to find the vulnerable, physical shell of the priest. If he concentrated on the forming bond, it would lead him straight to where he had to be.

Shutting his eyes, Ed forced his focus inwards, unable to keep the grimace from his face as he touched upon the blackened line with his mind. It was stronger than his and Roy's had been at the beginning, thicker and almost bloody with its purpose. There was nothing divine about what Danner was doing, and the new bond seemed disturbingly organic, pulsing like a throbbing vein laid open to the air. He could feel it coiling within him like a bramble vine, seeking anchors wherever it could and tying him close. If he did not hurry, he would be too far-gone. If he wanted to get out of this without using his father's arrays — back into Roy's arms where he belonged — then he had to be quick.

However, that was easier said than done. Every step seemed to kill him that little bit more, and his breath laboured and wheezed in his chest. The pulse of his heart was the flap of a bird's broken wing, creaking and cold beneath his ribs. Sweat drenched his forehead and stuck his hair to his brow, and his lips cracked and bled as he pushed himself onwards, dragging himself along the bond like a man crawling up the rigging of a ship to the pinnacle of the mast.

At last, he saw Danner, eyes wide and staring. His short hair sparkled with sweat, but although his body was shaking within the effort, he still stood proud and strong when all Ed wanted to do was collapse. His gaze suddenly sharpened, and his thin lips curved into a smirk as he pushed his hands forward, driving the power ever deeper.

'You're almost mine.'

'In your — fucking dreams,' Ed bit out, groaning aloud as another blast slammed into him, forcing him back onto his knees. His hands smacked into the floor, and his hair fell in a shuddering curtain as he tried to hold on to the fragments of strength Roy's voice had given him. His concentration, his very mind, kept trying to slip away, and he blinked furiously as he battled to stay alert.

Danner was laughing, a quick, hoarse chuckle born of complete euphoria. 'It's working! At last it's working! When I had your brother I had hoped so desperately to receive the gifts of the _Saffron Soul_ , but the array did not take. He was rejected – too impure – but _you_!'

He chortled again, ignoring Ed's weak struggles. Danner knew that Ed was too drained to stand and had to be able to feel the bond working in his favour. It was sucking out everything Ed had to give and handing it back to the priest, nothing but a parasite, and with every passing moment it grew more solid and permanent, taking up the sacred ground where Roy's bond once lay.

Ed's arms shuddered, his muscles giving up the fight as he lay on his side. Reducing the distance might have brought him closer to Danner, but it had made the bond more powerful too. That, at least, he should have learned from the one he shared with Roy. Distance made it weaker, but now he could not even crawl away.

He needed strength, but where could he get it? He was gasping with thirst and still half-starved. The basic fuel for his body had gone, and all that was left was his mind, shrieking useless threats in the empty cavern of his skull. Even his senses were starting to fade, turning deaf and blind to the tempestuous transmutation all around him.

'Danner!'

Flame roared through the array, adding its ferocity to that rough roar of that voice. It bloomed through the air, creating insane patterns amidst the spinning whirlwinds of power, and there, like a subtle discord in a symphony, Ed could feel the change someone had made. He knew the feel of his little brother's alchemy, and he closed his eyes in relief as he realised what Al was doing. It was not much, just a tiny little flaw, big enough to let one other person join them in this howling plane, but perhaps it would be enough.

'You!'

Ed looked up at Roy, feeling his entire being tear itself between joy and fear. It was almost impossible to believe that somehow, despite Danner's best efforts and the broken bond, Roy was still alive. Yet at the same time that precious, unexpected existence could so easily be eradicated. Here, in the middle of this place, Danner was not the only threat. The energy all around them could tear Roy apart as easy as anything else. Even now, Ed could feel the new bond reacting to the intrusion, twisting like a furious serpent as it continued to grow, pushing more power Danner's way to eradicate the threat to its existence.

'Run!' Ed yelled, spitting a curse when Roy only shook his head, the knuckles of both hands clenched tight in preparation to snap. He had to know that every array he activated in here disturbed the stability. If the transmutation came crashing down, they would all be dead, and so would everyone else in the house. There would be nothing left but a crater. Yet one look at Roy's face was enough to tell Ed all he needed to know. Roy did not care. All he wanted was to stop Danner, and like Ed, he would do whatever necessary to spoil the priest's plan.

The flame leapt as Danner whipped around, holding up his hands to block the assault. However, it was unnecessary. The fire vanished, ripped apart by the tempestuous alchemy. Something so mundane could not survive here, and Roy's strength was like a gnat in a hurricane. The air hummed and blazed as the transmutation spat in fury, and Ed flinched as a random discharge crackled across the floor, lighting everything with an oily green before it faded away.

'I knew I should have slit your throat,' Danner spat, turning his back on Ed and facing Roy, the white robes snapping around his body in the gale of energy. 'I knew I should not have left anything to chance. If only there had been more time!'

He waved a hand, and Ed felt the array contract, bright and visceral as the lightning swarmed inwards, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Roy jumped out of the way just in time, rolling on his shoulder and coming to a halt a few feet to Ed's left as they both stared at the smoking hole where Roy had been standing.

It scarred the strange, saffron mist like a pimple, smoking gently, and Ed clenched his jaw as he realised what Danner was doing. Arrays required more energy to get going than they did to be maintained. Now excess power was sleeting through the air around them, and Danner was using that against them, manipulating the flow as easily as pouring water from a bucket.

The fucker did not even have his hands pressed to the ground. That kind of contact was unnecessary now. The bond made sure of that. It was still growing, thickening with every passing second, so much faster than his and Roy's had done. What had taken days for them was taking moments for Danner, and Ed could feel him forcing it every step of the way. In a couple of minutes, Danner would probably able to tear Roy apart with nothing more than a wave of his hand.

He had to stop him.

Pressing himself up on shaking arms, Ed staggered to his feet, trying to remain upright around the pain that clawed at his chest and stomach. All he had to do was fight back. If he could just stop Danner getting any stronger, then maybe Roy would get the chance he needed to take him down.

Quickly, he met Roy's dark gaze, knowing that even if they were entirely separate now, Roy still had the sense to think along the same lines. Their eyes only met for a second before Roy was forced to roll to the side again, wildly avoiding Danner's attacks. The priest was furious. Veins stood out in his forehead and an ugly puce suffused his cheeks, but there was a maniacal, hungry gleam in his eye. He was revelling in the feast of Ed's power, and Ed forced himself to stand still and focus.

It hurt, shutting Roy out like that, but he had to trust Mustang to look after himself as he brought all his mind to bear on the throbbing bond that was even now spreading its roots down deep into his being. Maybe he could not stop it, but whatever Danner thought, the link was a two way street. He could use it, even if the priest and the bond were both unwilling to let him do so.

Sweat broke out anew across his brow as he struggled with the internal tangle of alchemy. It was darkness when Ed was used to light, and shadow where he expected sunshine. Every muscle shook with the effort, even though he was barely moving, and Roy's shouts and jibes at Danner's fitful bursts of retribution fell on deaf ears. Nausea clenched in his stomach as he pulled against the flow, trying to drag back some of what seeped out along the line of the bond, tugging with invisible hands to hold on to what was his.

Abruptly, like an old root giving way, something snapped free, and Ed felt a rush of warmth suffuse his frame. He heard Danner's shriek of fury, but his palms were already pressed together, bright blue light sparking around him as he tried to fight. The bond as not broken, far from it, but it was a single slip of which he hoped to take advantage, and he hurled the power at Danner with all his strength.

The priest's lips pulled back in a snarl, and Ed stumbled back as his transmutation, little more than heat and fury, was blocked by something colder and hard, shattering it apart like a spear to lance along the bond.

This time, there was nothing as subtle as pain. The scream ripped itself free from Ed's throat as his back arched where he stood, every nerve and bone trembling with agony. The world wavered in a dizzy, drunken spin as his knees smacked into the floor again. His automail was crackling with the discharges, and the tinny taste of blood and power coated his tongue.

Roy's inarticulate shout of rage cut across the air, and Ed dragged his head up to see him tackle Danner to the ground. The priest was not expecting it any more than he had Ed's assault, and Roy was not disadvantaged by the lecherous pull of the unwanted bond. His gloved fist connected easily with Danner's mouth, and Ed saw the blood staining the white cloth. He wanted to move — wanted to help — but his body had betrayed him. His limbs were too heavy and his voice had choked in his throat, leaving him fighting for every breath.

Danner and Roy grappled as if their lives depended on it, trading clumsy blows and kicks in their mutual desperation. The priest was bruised and bloody, but Roy was pale, his face strained behind the snarl on his lips, and when Danner's fist connected with his temple, he slumped sideways, barely having the sense to roll clear as Danner snapped to his feet, his hands blistering as power burned outwards.

The bolt of light hit Roy in the left shoulder, burning cloth and melting braid as it drove him back. In this uncertain place the power dissipated quickly, leaving Roy panting and sweating, his eyes pinched with pain as he clutched at his chest.

'Ah yes,' Danner purred, straightening up as the mask of rage slipped from his face revealing something more disdainful. 'I knew there had to be some damage. You may have been saved, general, but your days are still numbered. I'm surprised that Myers couldn't finish you off.'

'Last time I saw him he was a pile of ash,' Roy spat, backing away like a wounded animal, his eyes darting left and right as if he were considering his options. 'Not really in fighting form.'

'Neither are you,' Danner murmured, rubbing his bloody palms together absently before stepping forwards. 'Perhaps you should join him?'

Ed's heart leapt into his throat as his thoughts crystallised into ice-cold clarity. There was so little he could do. Every effort was like fighting against a riptide, but there was no fucking way he was going to let Danner kill Roy right in front of his eyes a second time.

He bowed his head, his father's arrays already blooming in his mind when he noticed what was still etched into the vague floor in front of him. The central part of the array, the ancient one that Ed did not recognise was still in place, and wild, desperate ideas began to murmur in his head. It was worth a try. Right now, watching Roy continue to retreat and Danner stalk him like a predator, he was willing to ask for help from anywhere.

Even the Gate.

'Danner,' he barked, his voice clawing up his throat with thirsty thorns. It was enough to make the priest falter, and Ed saw confusion go nova in those uncomfortably sharp eyes as he firmly placed his hands to the circumference of the remaining array. 'You think this is going to go your way? Maybe it's time you thought again.'

Ed let himself ago. It was like cracking down a dam that held back all he had been fighting to keep. The bond snatched at it, but the array was stronger, tugging the power free from the tether's pull and absorbing it until every sigil gleamed bright gold, burning through Ed's closed eyelids to sear themselves across his mind. Perhaps he could not speak the language or recognise the words, but the meaning still resonated down through his soul.

The strange, swirling wind suddenly found its direction, streaming Ed's hair back from his face as if something enormous behind him was taking one giant breath. The haze solidified, becoming shape and form as he sensed the massive Gate appear behind him, too solid to be a dream. He could feel the echo of the mighty threshold's strength beginning to build in his muscles, banishing the weakness that kept clawing him back into its grasp.

Danner was on his knees now, Roy forgotten, but one look behind the priest at Mustang made Ed's entire body jerk in panic. Roy was hunched over, his dark hair hanging as he forced each breath through parted lips. There was no colour to his face, and Ed could see a bluish tinge beginning to taint his cheeks. His shoulders were shaking, and a mute keen caught in Ed's throat as he tried to get up and run forward.

Yet the array would not release him. His hands were stuck on the circumference, held in place by the steady flow of power, and the dry sob that escaped his lips unheeded. It was too late to move away. There was no going back from this path. He had opened the Gate and, now more than ever, Ed knew he was throwing them all on the fickle mercy of the truth that lay beyond.

He could only hope that Roy could hold on long enough for it to cast its judgement and ask its price, whatever that may be.

Danner's face was a mask of awe, lit with the bright glow of lust and greed as, ponderously, the wooden doors began to open. Ed heard their creak, and felt the gale around him intensify as the fog began to swirl, streaming inwards to the gaping maw beyond. Ed did not dare look over his shoulder and take in what was happening. He did not need to. He could see it all reflected in Danner's face: awe and ecstasy which, moments later were blemished by the first rain drop of doubt.

Those eyes tore themselves away from the edifice and dropped to meet Ed's gaze, searching for some kind of answer. This was not how it was meant to go. It should be Danner at the array's edge, not Ed, and in a split second Ed saw the teetering equilibrium in the priest’s expression topple towards horror.

He lunged forwards, slamming his hands to the circle as if trying to wrest it from Ed's control. Power crackled along every line, storming across the floor. The bond twisted itself in knots, writhing as they became locked in a silent battle for supremacy. Every second cut across Ed's nerves like a razor blade. He felt stretched out thin and sliced to ribbons, as if he bled from every pore, and still Danner did not stop. He pulled Ed's strength from him even as he pushed the bond in deeper. He and the array were vampires both, taking everything Ed had, but time was not on the priest's side.

A change whispered through the air, and a useless warning thrilled along Ed’s spine as the light from the Gate exploded outwards. He saw the rays shoot past his in a starburst, but within seconds they curved back, like the flowers of a petal closing in around its core, arcing inwards to plunge through his skin as if it were nothing more than shadow.

The array cracked like a gunshot, and Ed heard Danner's cry of fear and pain, but it was lost beneath the rush of the blood in his veins. He could not hear anything over the sick, unsteady beat of his heart, and every nerve trembled beneath the crushing pressure of the Gate's power. It closed its fist around him, obscuring Roy and the priest from sight and veiling Ed's eyes with harsh light.

Blazing heat rushed through him, flooding every artery and turning his bones to molten gold. It poured into the dark corners of his soul, taking his secrets and examining them before throwing them aside. It was just like the first time, and something in the depths of Ed's mind, child-like and terrified, remembered the searing pain of limbs ripped away and a brother lost into oblivion. Would that happen again? The Gate did not care about good intentions, or even justice. Would it even know that it was Danner, not Ed, who wanted this?

He felt it touch on the bond, and here, for the first time, the amber light that filled him pulled back as if repulsed. He felt a flash of emotions: curiosity, realisation and a thick, cloying glow of something smug before the illumination grew in intensity. It was too much. His mind was full of the Gate's ancient presence, lost within a maze of spinning arrays and worlds he could never hope to see or understand, but through it all he sensed the thoughts of something greater than himself. They were not heard, so much as felt.

_You are no slave._

As abruptly as the tempest had taken him, Ed was released. It felt as if he were falling, dropping back to into the world like someone plunging from the grips of the sky, but when he opened his eyes it was to find himself at the edge of the array. The Gate was still behind him, a silent spectator, and Danner crouched opposite, his lips split in a manic grin as his eyes gleamed.

'Yes!' he whispered, drinking in the sight of Ed with hungry eyes. 'Yes!'

The bond twitched, still a snake within Ed's body, but where before it had seemed massive, it was now insignificant: a thread of cotton in comparison to the vast swathe of dazzling saffron that caught him in its web. Curiously, he looked back over his shoulder, seeing the twisting, glorious cacophony of golds and yellows pouring back towards the Gate, an umbilical cord tying him to that wealth of power contained within its frame.

Danner reached out, his fingers shaking as he went to brush Ed's cheek, but Ed moved too quickly, snatching Danner's wrist with an iron grip. He heard the bone break and saw Danner's face go pale. He could see the whites all the way around those grey irises and smell the sudden, acrid scent of fear as the priest realised that Ed was no puppet. He should have been weak, ravaged by hunger and thirst, but Danner had not understood what he was messing with. He had sought to control the elemental power of alchemy by using Ed as a conduit, but that was not the way it worked.

How could anyone think they could tame him now?

Ed's eyes darted to Roy, and the cold calculation of the Gate in Ed's mind gave way to something human and feral, torn between love for the man dying a few feet away and hate for the sinner in his grasp. Even now he could feel Danner grappling with the bond, trying to drag some of the Gate's power towards him like someone clawing for a diamond in the shifting sands of the desert. Spit flecked the priest's lips, and he did not even try to free himself from Ed's grip as he concentrated on his efforts.

'It won't work,' Ed hissed. 'The Saffron Souls were masters, not slaves. Only once they lost their connection to the Gate's power did they fall into chains, and even then their minds and hearts remained free.' He stared in to Danner's eyes, seeing the human insignificance of him. So delicate, his soul within like a white moth drawn towards the flame of the Gate's sanctuary. And this was what had sought to control not only Ed, but also the vast power that lay beyond man’s understanding?

Never.

Taking a deep breath, Ed moved like a striking snake, looping coils of light through the man’s skin as Danner screamed in horror. He could feel the flutter of Danner’s existence beneath his fingertips, and thought of all those lives that had been snuffed out in the name of the priest’s desires. For that, he should be punished.

With all his strength, Ed pulled the net of alchemy tight, feeling the bond struggle as he hauled at Danner’s energy. The priest had tried to drain Ed of everything he had to give, and now it was his turn. Yet where Danner had battled against every ounce of Ed’s will, now there was no fight to be had. The flesh yielded like melting butter, and Ed heard the faint, dying whimper on Danner’s last breath as he dragged that soul down the black bond, forcing it through his own body and into the waiting clutches of the merciless Gate.

That was too much for the gruesome new bond. It ripped free from Ed’s soul like a tree being taken up from its roots, leaving gaping holes. The vast canyon within him emptied once more, hollow and stark, and Ed’s breath turned solid in his throat as he slumped on to his side, clutching at his agonising chest.

Around him, the arrays were breaking down, releasing fierce gouts of energy into the air. They traced across his vision like cobwebs, their unearthly crackle singing in his ears as he struggled to crawl closer to Roy’s side. Something caught his eye, and he swallowed tight as he saw the black hands he knew so well begin to creep across the threshold, moving towards him with ghostly purpose.

_Broken souls._

Ed heard that whisper on the edge of the Gate’s howling gale, and a shudder twisted down his spine as he realised it spoke of him and Roy, two shattered halves of what was once whole. The dark arms slid over the floor, the fingers groping frantically like a blind man trying to pick up crumbs. It did not matter that Ed was a _Saffron Soul_. Perhaps it even made him more appealing. The fickle Gate would take both him and Roy, wiping their miserable existences from the world because it could sense the massive abyss where the bond had once been and the fragments of life that were all that remained.

‘No!’

Ed’s hoarse voice fell from his lips as he hauled himself towards Roy, not caring that he was half-crawling, half dragging his aching, beaten body. His questing fingertips grabbed the fabric of Roy’s uniform, the rough weave amazingly real in this nightmare of a place. Roy was lying on his back now, his eyes squeezed shut tight and his face locked in a rigour of pain. One hand was pressed hard to his chest, and this close Ed could feel the struggles of his pulse as if it were his own, thudding along the ravaged remains of a ghostly connection.

Alchemy roared around them, not a transmutation but a tempest, and Ed squeezed his eyes shut tight as the floor shook hard, rumbling beneath him as if the world itself was crumbling apart. He could feel the power in the air going out of control, boiling upwards to a crescendo that would wipe them out if the Gate did not get to them first, and he swallowed tightly as he tried to think of a way to pull them both back from the brink.

Roy’s hand closed over his with crushing strength. His skin was cold and clammy, but it was still the best feeling in the world as Ed dragged his eyes up to meet Roy’s gaze. The light there was fading, blotted out by pain and a failing heart, but Roy’s voice still slid over his skin like warm silk as his words reached Ed’s ears.

‘I love you.’

Something closed up in Ed’s throat, but he forced his voice to work around it as he croaked the raw truth of it. ‘I love you too, idiot. What were you thinking? What have you done to yourself?’ He ducked his head as a crack of power went nova overhead, bleaching the saffron world to white and throwing the encroaching arms into stark contrast, but he still noticed the faint smile twist Roy’s lips.

‘The same thing you would have done for me, Ed.’

That last word fell on a stuttering gasp, and Roy fell silent, biting his lip as he focussed on dragging in frightening, hacking breaths. Ed did not answer. Roy as right, and besides, he looked like another word would finish him off. Instead Ed tore his mind from the spreading chill of grief and misery and made himself _think_. He had beaten the Gate before, and if he let what was left of Danner’s array go off, he was not even sure if Central, however far away that was, would survive the blast.

He tried to think back to Danner’s array, not the one he had created today, but the one at Edil Park: the golden tether which had tied him and Roy so close. If he could get the bond back, somehow, then perhaps the Gate would lose interest in them, and a healthy heart tied to a failing one could buy Roy time enough. There was enough energy exploding around them to pull it off, but even as Ed raked through his mind, he could only remember pieces of that mighty design.

Deep inside him, something stirred, and Ed’s eyes flew open as a grin crossed his face. His gaze slid to the waiting threshold of the Gate, and he clenched his hand tight around Roy’s in promise. ‘Hold on. I’ve got an idea.’

He did not explain, there was not any time. He might not know the details of the array, but he was bound to the Gate now, connected by something that had more to do with genetics than anything else. Surely that meant that the huge ocean of knowledge contained within the threshold was his for the taking?

A deep breath filled his lungs as he poured every thought into what he wanted, pushing the idea along the aureate link. He tried to remember every aspect of what he and Roy shared, from the irritating compromise to the soothing balm of complete compatibility and, after what felt like an eternity, he felt something akin to understanding from the Gate.

Like a seed thrown into newly turned earth, the design bloomed forth, a graceful medley so different from what Danner had used tonight. Ed barely let his heart beat again before clapping his hands together and slamming them to the floor.

The storm of power surged inwards, pulled down into the glowing, burning lines, igniting the trails as if liquid metal were being poured through Ed and into the ground. He could feel it seeping through him, burning so hard he wanted to writhe, but he forced his shoulders to stay still, tense and hard as he allowed himself to become the vessel for more power than he had ever imagined.

Along the tether to the Gate, he felt the tide of energy change, rushing out from the threshold to join the swell. Roy was underneath him, lying between Ed’s sweating palms, and every breath sounded like the last rattle of life. He was fading fast, and Ed clenched his teeth as he pushed the power onwards, feeling the design burst to abrupt, potent life in a roar of triumph.

A golden lance bit into his back, spearing through Ed’s body before sinking in to Roy’s chest. It was vaporous, but to every screaming nerve it felt as real as any death, and Ed choked around the tang of blood as he felt the sensation grind deeper, spreading tendrils through his body until it filled him, seducing his mind with the promise of rest.

Dimly, Ed heard the Gate slam shut, the black hands retreating and the power waning away as the alchemy continued to seethe. Explosions boomed in his ears, and the creak and hiss of falling rubble rang out as the last of his strength abandoned him and he slumped down on to Roy’s chest.

The last sound he heard before darkness closed in was the beat of Roy’s heart, strong and sure, beneath his ear.


	28. Chapter 28

Sunlight stroked Roy's face, bringing warmth to flesh that had known nothing but ice for what felt like an eternity. A gentle breeze toyed with his hair and tweaked at his shirt, but it was the heavy, comfortable weight sprawled over him that made his lips curve in a euphoric smile. He could smell the rough perfume of Ed's automail, cool metal and oil like blood in its mechanical veins, but beneath that was the softer, summer scent of Ed's skin.

More than anything, he could feel the bond. It filled him up from within, banishing the darkness and pouring its golden wealth into him until the empty canyon was full once more. All the grief and pain was obliterated beneath its amber touch. It wove the pieces of his and Ed's souls neatly back together again, healing the wounds that had torn them both to shreds in the space of a heartbeat.

Opening his eyes, Roy looked up at the deep cerulean sky. It stretched upwards into infinity, cloudless now. Only the sun hovered in its heights, swelling the healthy barley with its rays as the gentle breeze played amidst the stalks. It was a far cry from the last time he had stumbled into slumber, when their dreamworld had been torn asunder by the storm of the bond's destruction.

Now everything seemed better than it had ever been before: the perfect, unending summer day was not even marred by the roar of the waves. There was only the soft whisper of a tame ocean and the silken drift of Ed's steady breaths against the skin at Roy's open collar.

His arms tightened instinctively around Ed's waist, clutching him close as Roy's chest filled with relief and joy. He did not remember much from back at the array; his mind had been filled with the simple struggle for life, but he could recall thinking that it was all over — that he and Ed would both be lost — and that thought had torn him apart all the more.

Burying his nose in Ed's hair, he inhaled deeply, trying to reassure himself that he was really here, warm and living in his arms. Yet dimly, he became aware that Ed was not moving, and a thrill of uncertainty shot down Roy's spine as he cradled Ed close, nudging at the crown of his head as he asked, 'Are you all right?'

Roy winced at the sound of his own voice, rough in his ears as if he had been screaming for hours. Belatedly, his body made him aware of aches and pains, bleeding wounds that had gone unnoticed in the swarm of adrenaline and bruises thudding with a deep rhythm of discomfort. It seemed that, even here, the body somehow told the brain of its injuries.

For a moment, Ed did not answer and Roy frowned, wondering if Ed was sleeping somewhere beyond this place. Normally, Ed awoke within a couple of minutes of him, but perhaps things were different now. It was stupid to assume that a bond torn out and then replaced would behave in the same way as its predecessor.

'Should be asking you the same question,' Ed muttered at last. He sounded exhausted, as if all the energy had been drained out of him. Dragging his head up, he glared at Roy with fierce, shadowed eyes. 'Thought you were going to die — again.'

Roy winced, noticing everything from the grime that lingered on Ed's cheeks to the weariness stamped all over his face. His features looked sharper and more hungry than Roy was used to, and his lips were cracked and scabbed. It was also impossible to ignore the seeping stain of blood at his shoulder, and Roy's stomach clenched in hard anger as he gently shifted his hand down over Ed's arm to feel the bandage beneath the white clothes he still wore.

'I feel fine now,' Roy managed at last, not allowing himself to dwell on the incapacitating pain he had experienced. When Danner had stopped his heart, the agony had been intense but short-lived. In the middle of the array it was endless, screeching along every nerve as life struggled on in a dying body. 'I ache, that's all.'

Ed's mirthless laughter snorted against Roy's chest, and his hands clenched into fists in Roy's shirt as if he were afraid he would disappear if he loosened his grip. 'That makes two of us.' He wriggled on top of Roy, arching his spine as if he could not bare even a fraction of space between them, and Roy could feel the tense, uncomfortable set of Ed's shoulders beneath his hands. 'You'd better not be lying to me, Mustang,' he growled at last. 'If I wake up from here and you don't, I'll rip you to fucking shreds.'

Roy smiled, tightening his arm around Ed’s waist and rolling them both so that they were side by side, nesting in the bed of barley as the sun stroked across their skin and soothed their pains. ‘You saved me. You and the bond.’ He brushed his fingers against Ed’s chin, making him lift his head and meet his gaze. More than anything, he wanted to kiss Ed and remind them both of everything they had snatched back from the brink, but right now it was more likely to hurt Ed than bring him pleasure. In the end he had to settle for pressing his lips hard to Ed’s brow, tucking him close and protecting him as he had been unable to do when Ed was bound in Danner’s clutches.

‘Thank you.’

He saw Ed’s expression: doubt and disbelief at Roy’s gratitude, and Roy raised his eyebrows as Ed wrinkled his nose. ‘Could have killed you as easily as not. If it had gone wrong, or your heart wasn’t strong enough, it would have been the end of us both. I — I waited too long. I couldn’t think…’

‘You did better than anyone else could have done in your position.’ Roy framed his words in steel, knowing that sometimes Ed’s own doubts and recriminations could be enough to rip him apart. ‘We’re here, we’re alive, and with any luck so is everyone else.’

He saw visceral fear bloom in Ed’s eyes, and only Roy’s hand on his arm stopped him struggling upright. ‘Your brother was still on his feet, the last I saw of him, but Myers and his men had guns and grenades. Several of my men were wounded.’ For the first time, Roy wondered what was happening in the real world, thinking of Hughes and the others who had been struck down by the force of Myers’ defense. ‘I don’t know how bad their injuries are, or even if they're still alive.’

Ed sighed, finally untangling his fingers from Roy’s shirt and smoothing over the smoke-scented cotton. ‘It might be a while before we find out anything,’ he murmured apologetically, turning his head to squint at the unmoving sun. ‘This isn’t sleep; it’s something deeper than that. I don’t think we could wake up if we wanted to.’ His nose nudged at the hollow of Roy’s throat, and a shaky sigh whispered across Roy’s skin.

Roy tried to find some sense of alarm at Ed's words, but the emotion was beyond him. After so much fighting and agony, horror and grief he could not bring himself to be concerned about what awaited them in the real world. Here, he had everything he needed. Ed was no longer threatened by the ruthlessness of the priest or the uncaring array. The sun was shining, and Roy felt alive again, when an hour ago all that had kept him going was the shakiest of hopes that Ed would still be there to save.

Not that he had needed rescuing in the end. As always, Ed was no princess in a tower. He had found the power he needed to save himself and Roy as well. When it came down to it, though Roy may have penetrated the fortress of the priest's defences, it was Ed who had brought him to justice.

Sometimes it was easy to see why the disciples could believe Ed was a god. He kept going where others gave up, kept fighting when anyone else would surrender, and always seemed to find inspiration for salvation when others would lie down and accept their fate. That trait had nothing to do with the Saffron Soul or the Gate. It was Ed, pure and simple.

'I love you,' Roy whispered, tightening his grip on Ed's body and feeling his strong, automail arm wriggle beneath him. In an instant, Ed returned the embrace, just as fierce and passionate. He clung to Roy as if he were an anchor, and when he spoke, his cracked voice was as solid as rock, utterly committed.

'Love you too, Roy. When I thought you were dead it was like I couldn't even fucking think.' He shifted by Roy's side, pillowing his head in the curve of Roy's shoulder. 'It took days before I even got enough of my brain together to try and escape. The drugs might have had something to do it, but I kept thinking about when you fell...'

'Your brother brought me back to life,' Roy murmured, nuzzling Ed's brow. 'Danner used an electric current to stop my heart. From what Al said, it sounded like he kept shocking my heart to mimic a beat until a medic could give me the drugs needed to sustain a rhythm again. Without him, Danner would have succeeded.' Roy swallowed as the weight of that reality sank in. 'I really should thank them, not just Al, but everyone. My men have put up with a lot since I woke up.'

Ed gave a rough chuckle, shaking his head. 'Al won't need any gratitude. He'd do it for anyone. That's what he's like.'

'You asked him to look after me.' The barley danced in the docile wind, bobbing and waving fronds of rich gold around their nest. The susurrus rose around them like a swarm of butterfly wings, and Roy bent his head so that his lips were a hair's breadth from the shell of Ed's ear as he murmured, ‘Do you have any idea how much that means to me?’

Strong fingers clenched in the fabric of Roy's shirt, and only Roy's touch on Ed's cheek halted the unsteady shake of his head. 'It wasn’t enough,’ Ed growled. ‘I should have taken care of you myself. Danner should never have been able to lay a hand on you. He should never have got the chance to break the bond in the first place!'

The loudness of those words resonated in the air, sounding oddly like the plucked strings of a harp as they faded from hearing. The tremors in Ed's tired body transmitted not only along the bond that linked them, but through Roy's skin, making his heart keen in sympathy to Ed's distress. Of course, if there was another thing Fullmetal excelled at, it was self-blame.

'Nothing I can say is going to make you believe it wasn't your fault, is it?' he asked after a while, pressing tender kisses to Ed's cheek and tense jaw. 'But I know you weren't to blame any more than Anders was for leading us there, or Hughes was for arriving a half-minute too late to stop them from taking you.' Roy bowed his head, remembering his anger at his best friend. In that quiet hospital, he had hated the man who had stood by him over the years, and now for all Roy knew he would never get the chance to apologise.

'If we're trying to look for a guilty party, we might as well say it was my fault,' he admitted at last. 'I could have waited another five minutes for back up, but I was so desperate to bring it to an end that I ignored my own common sense. I've been paying for that from the second the bond shattered apart.'

He let his head fall back to the sweet-smelling ground beneath him, closing his eyes as he recalled the horrible, draining sensation when he realised that not only was the bond gone, but Ed was not at his side.

'It felt like I was losing my mind.'

They both said it at the same time, their words little more than a breath on the air. The devastation of the bond’s loss had been equal on both sides. Deep down, Roy had known that, but while he was free to rage and despair, Ed had been kept in chains and lost in the mists of drugged consciousness. After that hellish time it was easy to be grateful for the solace of a new bond, but would Ed always feel that way, or would he come to resent the tie between them?

Something in Roy trembled at the thought, and he reached out to sweep a strand of Ed’s hair back behind his ear as he said, ‘The past day or so has been the worst of my life, and only the bond made that better.’ He swallowed, knowing he had to ask the question even if he was afraid of the answer. ‘But if, in the next few months or years, you found a way to safely break it again, would you want to?’

To Roy, it was unthinkable. Even if there was a way for he and Ed to exist as they had once done, independent of one another, he would reject the idea. It was not that he thought all of their feelings relied on the bond: love had survived its loss after all, stronger than anything alchemy could create, but he knew his life would be poorer without it. Danner had meant it to be a ball and chain, but instead it was like sunlight, bringing an abundance that he knew no unbonded person would understand.

'I'd leave it alone,' Ed said firmly, as if any other answer was too stupid to contemplate. 'It's different from Danner's. I made it from the Gate’s knowledge, and even if it could be broken, the price wouldn't be worth paying.'

His chest swelled as he drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes before pushing on. 'I tried to make it better than what we had before. With any luck, once it's stabilised we won't get that weird interference from other people any more, and hopefully it won't care how far apart we are.' Ed cleared his throat, his voice dropping to a mutter as he added. 'I wanted to be sure we were together by choice, and not just because we had no other alternative.'

Roy smiled to himself, amazed at Ed's mind, always working. Even in the middle of the Gate with death bearing down and the world falling apart around them, he still had the forethought to try and improve on Danner's ideas. 'Should have known you'd give it your own touch.'

'Yeah, well don' t thank me yet. Here it's hard to know if it's worked.' His golden gaze drifted up to the infinite sky, and Roy watched Ed's fingers pluck some barley grain from the stalk and release it to the wild zephyrs. 'It’s hard to know if anything's gone the way I thought it would. I tried to sever the connection the array made between me and the Gate, but maybe I didn't do it right. For fuck's sake, I don't even know if we're alive or dead or somewhere in between.'

Roy sat up, nudging Ed aside and stretching his arms. Bruises gnawed at him, and the view wobbled a little as the blood rushed from his head. 'We're still alive. I don't think being dead could ever feel so warm and real.' He gestured out to sea. From here, on the crest of their hill, it seemed as if they could see all the way to the end of the world, cast before them in tones of blue and amber. It was challenging to remember the realm that lay beyond the dreamscape: harsh reality held little appeal, and a smile crossed Roy's lips.

For now he had everything he wanted. He was content to sit amidst the barley and wait to see what the future held.

'We'll wake up soon enough,' he said, not bothering to keep the faint hint of dread from his voice at what they might find. 'We may as well enjoy the peace while we have the chance.' He reached out, touching a scrape on Ed's cheek and brushing a thumb over the shadow under his right eye. 'You've earned it, Ed.'

Ed's fingers looped around his wrist, and he turned his head to press a whisper of a kiss to Roy's palm. 'You need it too. Just because you seem all right doesn't mean you are.' His fingers trailed down Roy's arm, moving to rest again over the steady, strong beat of Roy's heart. He knew Ed had felt its dying flutter back in the array, and now he sat there as if waiting for it to stumble in its beat once more and bring their whole world crashing down.

'Come on,' Roy murmured, nudging him back down to their impromptu bed. 'I'll rest if you do.'

Ed rolled his eyes, but there was not much fight left in him. He had given all that to Danner and the array, and now he lay, lax and comfortable in Roy's arms as the breeze gamboled around them and the sun remained fixed at its zenith. They talked in soft voices, drifting in and out of sleep. It was the only need that disturbed them here, pulling them briefly away from the glow of sunlight and down into darkness, but every time that Roy awoke with Ed still in his arms, the simple joy washed over him anew.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but eventually he awoke to something other than barley and blue sky. White sheets pinned him to the bed, and there was no warm body against him. All the aches in his muscles — subtle inconveniences before — took on a sharp, cruel edge, and he winced, stifling an uncomfortable groan.

Stiffly, he rolled his head to the left, taking in the bed on the other side of the small hospital room. Ed was curled up on his side, an IV line running into the back of his hand in a mirror image to the one that pierced Roy's skin. He looked worse here, washed out and lifeless against the stark white sheets, but as Roy watched a glimmer of gold appeared between the line of those dark lashes.

His nose seemed to reach full awareness before the rest of him, wrinkling in disgust at the astringent scent of the hospital, and Roy managed a faint smile as he saw a frown cleave that brow.

'You all right?' he whispered, not wanting to disturb the dusky peace. He could see darkness outside through the gaps in the blinds, and two small lamps lit the bland white room, rather than harsh fluorescent lighting. His voice, parched like the air in an old tomb, cracked around his question, and he swallowed the dryness in his mouth, hating the lingering, medical taste that seemed to coat his tongue.

'Been better,' Ed muttered, blinking his eyes hard before propping himself up on his automail elbow and staring at Roy. It felt like being in a spotlight beam. All of Ed's attention was focussed on him, and Roy did not want to imagine how he looked right now. 'What about you?'

Roy allowed himself a moment, taking stock of his physical state. Scrapes and shallow wounds from the gunfight and grenade shrapnel stung faintly, and a dull, persistent ache dwelt around his heart, but it was not the crushing fist it had been.

'I'll be all right,' he said at last. 'Better than I was, anyway.'

He turned his eyes away from Ed's uncertain gaze, looking down at the blank canvas bed sheets. However, the fabric was not as featureless as he had first thought. Like a star swimming into focus, the lamplight seemed to swarm inwards, leaving the room a little darker as the bright line of the bond flared into life. Heat and warmth raced along its length, and elation swelled in Roy's heart at the sight.

Softly, he reached down, stroking a finger along it and feeling the rush of sensation swarm along its length. After Edil Park, he and Ed had awoken to see something no wider than a strand of silk joining them together, but this was several inches thick and more like sunlight than anything solid. There was something natural about the bond now, as if it had grown between them, rather than being forged, and Roy managed a grin as Ed returned the gesture, making the link resonate: a plucked cord that tied their souls together.

Somehow, it managed to convey everything that, here, Roy could not put into words. Relief and fear, joy and uncertainty all collected in his heart, and he knew Ed felt the same way. Speaking back in the dream world had been easy, but here reality got in the way. Even as Roy struggled to find the right thing to say, Ed fell back on talk of alchemy, his index finger still rubbing absently along the glowing interface as he spoke.

'Putting it back was easy,' he confessed, lying back against his pillows as if he did not have the strength to support himself. 'Danner broke the last bond, but it left a — a hole.'

'A abyss,' Roy murmured, remembering the vast feeling of emptiness where the old bond had once been.

'Yeah. Once I got it started, the alchemy knew where to go. It followed the path of least resistance.' Ed smiled, and though it was a weary expression, Roy could see the heartfelt emotion in Ed's eyes and feel the bond purring against his skin. 'It's almost like it was never gone.'

A noise on the threshold made them both look over, and Roy blinked at the surprised nurse hovering in the doorway. Her uniform denoted she was a military medic, and Roy stifled a groan as he felt the massive bulk of the army begin to impinge on his existence once more. All he wanted was to find some dark corner to share with Ed, where they could heal their wounds both inside and out in peace. However, that was an impossible dream, and he forced himself to smile wanly at her surprise.

'Oh, you're awake!' The woman's tired face creased with a smile, and she reached for a pen as she walked in to the room with a bounce in her step. 'We had begun to wonder if you two would ever come round.'

'Where are we?' Roy asked, watching the woman as she scribbled hastily on the clipboard, her brown eyes clear and honest as she looked up with a smile.

'You're back at Central Command, General. Bannock Bane did not have the facilities to treat yourself and your men effectively. You were stabilised there and brought back here for full treatment. Do you remember what happened?'

Roy paused, formulating his answer with care. 'We were reprimanding the Cut Throat Killer, but his defences were better than expected,' he said at last, noticing the nurse's expression. She seemed impressed that he had the sense, even when in poor health, to consider the confidentiality of a situation. 'What about my men? Were there any fatalities?'  
  
Instantly, the woman's expression became grave, and Roy's heart sunk hard as she pursed her lips. 'I'll get the doctor for both you and Major Elric, then I will go and find someone who can brief you on the situation, sir. I am afraid I don't know the full details.'

Quickly, she took his pulse and blood pressure before doing the same for Ed, every move prompt and professional as she asked them both basic questions about their general well-being. Finally, she seemed satisfied and left the room, marching off with great purpose and leaving a dark, tense atmosphere in the room behind her.

'How many of them were hurt?' Ed asked quietly. 'Do you remember?'

Roy tried to sort something out from the chaos of his mind, but between the smoke, the flames and the fog of his own unpredictable fury, all he got were flashes of images, already half blocked out by the protective shroud of his subconscious.

'Everyone. If it wasn't a bullet it was shrapnel from the grenade, or both. We got as far as the entrance hall before we were discovered, but Myers had set up a defensive perimeter outside the ballroom. He was never going to let us through without a fight.' Roy frowned, his stomach churning with fear as he clenched his hands into helpless fists on top of the sheets.

Calmness washed over him like a tropical ocean, not robbing him of his genuine feelings, but making them more bearable. He could feel Ed reaching out along the bond, a ghostly touch that was almost as good as the real heat of his palm against Roy's skin. It was an anchor in what could have been a storm of panic, and it helped him to remain quiet and focussed as they waited for the doctor to arrive.

He reached back along the bond, brushing against Ed's presence with nothing as mundane as his physical body. Somehow the bond made any space navigable. It felt as if Ed was at his shoulder, rather than the other side of the room. He had never known another presence could be so comforting, but now he revelled in it, unable to forget how very close they had both come to losing the unexpected gifts of the bond forever.

Abruptly, something dark flashed across his mind's eye: a ragged, open wound at Ed's end of the bond, and he jerked his head around to scowl at the occupant of the other bed. 'You're not all right, are you? What was that?'

His questions were sharper than he intended, but the claws of fear were tightening again, more cruel and immediate than before. His heart drummed in his chest, pattering uncomfortably fast as he stared at Ed's tired expression, waiting for an answer. How had he been with Ed, both in the dreamscape and here, and not noticed something was wrong?

'Stop freaking out,' Ed murmured, and Roy heard the exhaustion in his voice. 'When I fed Danner's soul to the Gate, the bond between him and me was ripped out. It left a bit of a hole, that's all. It'll heal.'

Roy wanted to ask how Ed could be certain, but before he could open his mouth to demand an answer, the doctor swept into the room, not wasting a moment as he reached for his stethoscope. A couple of nurses were also helping him, performing all the little tests that formed the foundation of medicine. Both Roy and Ed had to submit to their attentions, and Roy bit back a sigh of frustration as he waited for them to finish.

'You're lucky, General. Your heart appears to have stabilised, and the damage from your cardiac attack will heal with time.' The doctor gave him a stern look. 'Providing you give it the chance, of course. Your other wounds are superficial. A couple required stitches, but most are straightforward.' He tapped his pencil on Roy's chart, his eyes darting from side to side as he read through the notes. 'For now you're on indefinite medical leave, and you're to remain under observation here until I say otherwise. Do I make myself clear?'

With a nod of his head, Roy agreed. He knew that he was lucky to be alive. It was a miracle that the strain of the past few days had not struck him down, and it was only because of Al and Ed that he was still here at all. Besides, as long as Ed was all right, then Roy knew he had all the time in the world.

'What about Major Elric?'

'He's not much better than you,' the doctor replied, accepting another piece of paper from one of the nurses. 'Don't worry, I'll check him over next, but I doubt either of you are going anywhere any time soon.'

The doctor circled around to Ed, repeating his gentle examination with care. His quiet questions were met with sullen, mostly mono-syllabic answers from Fullmetal, and Roy listened in unashamedly.

'You've suffered considerable dehydration, Major. We'll keep you here until your blood pressure has improved and we've been able to establish that your kidneys and liver are undamaged.' The doctor took out an x-ray and held it up to the light, squinting at the picture before replacing it back in its folder. 'There's also a shadow over your heart that's causing us some concern. Like the general, we won't return you to active duty until we are sure it's not a problem.'

Roy saw Ed roll his eyes, but for once he did not argue. Perhaps he simply did not have the energy to complain, but concern still clenched its talons in Roy's gut, making it hard to listen to the doctor's continuous appraisal of Ed's well-being.

'The intravenous line has improved your blood volume somewhat, but I would like to leave it in for a while so we can ensure you're getting enough hydration.' The doctor glanced over his shoulder at Roy, giving the clear, plastic tube that fed into his vein a thoughtful look. 'Yours can come out, General, now that you're conscious and able to take your medication orally.'

Roy nodded his thanks, glancing over at the door as a shifting shape caught his attention. Al was standing in the corridor, asking a nurse questions that Roy could not quite hear. He looked pale and frightened, but at the woman's gentle responses, some colour returned to his face. He did not cross the threshold, probably out of respect for the doctor, but Roy could see the young man's restlessness even as a weak smile bloomed across his lips.

Apart from a bandage around his head and a scabbed gash on his cheek, Al seemed unharmed. In fact, Roy could see that his gloves were stained with ink, and several bits of crumpled paper were stuck in his pockets. He could not have been far away, and judging from the shadows under his eyes, he had not been sleeping.

Now, though, he seemed almost painfully alert, his gaze glued to his older brother as if he was afraid to believe what he were seeing. Finally, when the doctor departed with promises to check on them every few hours, he slipped into the room and paused at the foot of Roy's bed, looking as if he had never really been sure he would see them alive again.

'Are you two all right?' he asked, his voice sounding smaller and more scared than Roy had heard it for a long time. 'What happened? When the array cleared you were barely breathing! You've been unconscious for more than forty-eight hours!' He bit his lip as if to stifle his other questions, and Roy did not miss the way he was wringing his hands.

Roy held his tongue, letting Ed answer. Alphonse might have respect for all his friends in the military, but he still believed his brother with all his heart and soul, and Ed was more likely to put him at ease.

'We'll be all right,' Ed promised, tugging the starched sheet up over his shoulder as if he were cold. 'Danner's bond with me was broken, and the Gate took his soul.'

'It almost took everything,' Al whispered, scrubbing his hand over his face. 'I couldn't get to you, and it was bringing the whole house down. I thought we'd had it, and then suddenly it all just – went away. There wasn't even an array left on the floor. Just you two and Danner, or what was left of him.'

'What about the others?' Roy asked, unable to keep the question down any longer. The germ of concern had spread in a pestilence of trepidation, and now he watched Al intently, looking for any non-verbal clues. 'Did the house collapse? What happened to my men?'

Al's expression changed, becoming less lost as he took comfort in solid facts. Roy watched him pull up a chair, setting it firmly at the foot of Ed's bed before sinking into its uncomfortable frame. 'Lieutenant Steele lost about a quarter of his men overall, and more than half were injured.' Al touched the bandage around his head thoughtfully, his eyes clear as he continued. 'Everyone from the office survived. Fuery and Falman both have a concussion. Havoc and Breda's wounds are mostly superficial. All four of them are resting in the dormitories.'

Roy shifted, watching Al's expression darken as he continued. 'Lieutenant Hawkeye experienced a bad wound to her neck. She was bleeding profusely, but then it just stopped. The wound didn't disappear or anything, but it was like she had healed inside, just not on the surface. Did you do that?'

Ed shook his head, his hair whispering against the pillow before he jerked a shoulder in a half shrug. 'I asked the Gate to help me with the array and showed it what I wanted. Maybe it picked something up from that. I didn't want anyone else to die.'

'What about Hughes?' Roy asked. 'Is he all right?'

Al looked over his shoulder, gesturing to the world beyond the door to their room. 'He's across the corridor. He took a bullet to the thigh and another clipped his temple. It caused a skull fracture, but didn't penetrate.' He smiled, and this time it was stronger, as if he were finally realising that everyone was going to be all right. 'He and Hawkeye are both being treated here. They've been awake since yesterday morning and asking for you every hour. At least now I can tell them you're back with us.'

He looked from Roy to Ed and back again before his eyes fell on the space between the beds. Roy did not think he could see anything of what lay between them, but Ed was right. His little brother knew everything, and he said in a voice barely above a whisper, 'I'm glad you got the bond back.'

'Your brother did it,' Roy admitted, shifting his weight in an effort to get more comfortable. 'I was no good to anyone.'

'You were having a heart attack,' Ed grumbled from his bed, his eyes drifting shut in a slow blink before he opened them again. 'Had to save you somehow.'

Al pulled one of the screwed up balls of paper from his pocket and handed it to his brother, his face serious and determined. 'I think you saved more than just the general. I'm still working on it, but I think you can get the message from what I decoded so far.'

'What is it?' Roy asked, craning his neck to try and get a better look at the grubby white sheet.

'It's the last page of the Saffron Soul, the one Brother was trying to make sense of when you met with Myers in your office,' Al explained, leaning forwards in his chair. 'We were right, it did have something important to say. Saffron Souls react differently to bonding than normal people. Danner might have uncovered the depths of joining two souls together, but he neglected to take that variable into account. Ed's different.'

'So are you,' Ed retorted, but it was a bark with no bite. He was still poring over his brother's note, his eyebrows drawn into a frown and his tired eyes alert.

'I was no good to him, and part of that helped me to work out why.' Al glanced over his shoulder, checking that no one could overhear. 'It wasn't being bound to the armour that made me unusable. It was the alchemy we did to get my body back.'

Ed's eyebrows lifted, as if everything was suddenly made sense, and Roy sighed to himself. Elric epiphanies always seem to involve a lot of non-verbal communication between the two brothers, and not even the bond could translate those bright, intelligent looks into something meaningful for Roy.

'Danner couldn't bind you to him, because your soul is already bound to your body.' Ed said, as if he should have known it all along. He must have seen Roy's look of confusion, because he scrubbed a hand over his eyes as he tried to explain. 'Normally, people's souls are more like a plug fitting into a socket. It just works, but after the Gate took Al, his body and soul didn't fit properly any more. They had to be tied together.'

'Bound,' Al added helpfully. 'Danner could not use me because there was already an active bond in place, just not one he could recognise.'

'Or break.' Ed's smile was more a snarl, and he slumped back on to the pillows. 'How did you manage to decode this?'

Al shrugged, his expression pinched at its edges. 'I've had two days to do nothing else but sit and worry. I needed something to keep me occupied.' He tugged the paper free of his brother's grasp and scanned down to the bottom of the page. 'It's the last bit that seems particularly relevant. If normal people are bound and then survive the unbinding, they go like Garrick. Physically, they're okay, but mentally, they lose it. That's if they survive the bond breaking in the first place.'

Roy closed his eyes, the memory still too painful and raw to contemplate. In that brief time he had been unbound from Ed, he felt like a different person, reduced to the lowest common denominator of his base nature until there was nothing left but grief and desperation. Logical thought had been such a challenge – even now he could remember struggling in the battle of his instincts versus the fading vestiges of his conscience.

'What happens to a _Saffron Soul_?' Ed asked. 'Danner thought I'd go like Garrick, too.'

'I don't think he ever decoded this bit.' Al looked uncomfortable. 'It says that once a _Saffron Soul_ has been bound once, it must always been bound to something, or they die. I'm still working on the translation – it's not an instant death, but I'm getting the impression that they don't have long. The Gate's mentioned, and it's as if being bound once changes the soul somehow, so that if it's then left unbound, even if it's in a body, it's not...' he hesitated, struggling for the word. 'Safe? That might not be the correct translation.'

Roy's heart had turned icy in his chest, and he glanced sideways at Ed. There was no horror there, nor was there the expected confusion. Instead there was something almost like understanding on his face, as if he knew something they didn't.

'Do you understand what it means?' Roy asked quietly, paying close attention to the flicker of emotions on Ed's face. However, there was nothing obvious there, and Ed simply rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

'When I was bound to Danner, there was no malevolence from the Gate – at least not towards me. As soon as he was gone, the Gate knew I was broken somehow.' He paused, swallowing tightly. 'I can remember feeling how hungry it was, for both of us, but maybe if you hadn't been right in front of it, it would never have known about you.'

'You make it sound like a predator of some kind,' Roy murmured.

'There is a word in here that translates to something like “hunt”.' Al shrugged apologetically, his eyes clouded as he turned to his brother. 'Restoring the bond between you and the general was the safest thing to do. Without it, I don't think either of you would have come back.'

A soft silence filled the room after Al's quiet statement, and Roy watched him fold the piece of paper and slip it back in to his pocket. Despite all their hard work, there was still so much about the Saffron Soul that was lost in the mists of time, obscured from modern knowledge, and even as his mind brimmed with questions, Roy knew it was best that it stayed that way.

'Al, I need you to do me a favour. Take that book and put it somewhere safe, somewhere not in headquarters. It's not an essential part of the investigation, and I think it's better if it stays out of general circulation.' He hesitated, his mind working quickly. 'Ask Scieszka to burn all the notes that will not be of immediate assistance to the police, as well, and make sure the office is clear of anything telling: empty out bins, that sort of thing.'

'You think someone else might get the same idea as Danner?' Ed scowled at the thought, but he did not question it. The fear was a valid one, even if it was not the primary cause for Roy's caution.

'I'm more concerned about what the military might do with the knowledge. Danner's gone, but we're still bound, and that's something the army don't need to know.'

'Why keep the book at all? Just burn it.' Ed shrugged at Roy's doubt. 'What? Without that, there's just some crazy priest talk and an old painting on the wall of an abandoned temple.'

'And you.' Roy shook his head, but before he could continue, Al interrupted, speaking in the quiet but firm voice of reason.

'That book is the only source of information we have, Brother. If you and the general did not need to stay bound together, I'd agree and burn it to nothing, but we don't know what the bond will do. How will it behave in a month or a year? What about over a lifetime?' He got up from the chair and folded his arms. 'What if something goes wrong? We might need it one day, and if it's nothing but ashes then it can't be of any help to us.'

Al's chin went up when Ed opened his mouth to argue, and it was only when Ed huffed a sigh and subsided again that he gave a firm nod. 'I'll put it somewhere safe, and I'll make sure that any spare notes are destroyed.' Now the smile that flashed across his face could have lit up the world. 'I'm glad you’re all right, Brother, and you too, General. You should try and get some more sleep, and please do what the doctors say?'

Ed muttered something that sounded rude, but Roy met Al's eyes. 'I'll make sure he behaves. Thank you, Alphonse.'

'I'll come and see you again in the morning. Sleep well.'

The door snicked closed in Al's wake, and Roy allowed a sigh to escape. The simple act of talking was exhausting. He could not have been awake for more than an hour, but sleep was already tempting him back down into darkness again. Yet it was more difficult to relax, now. Pains nagged at him while the sheets chafed and the bed seemed too cold and clinical for comfort. Despite the bond, Ed felt too far away, and with a quick glance towards the door, Roy cautiously sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

'What are you doing?' Ed's growl stirred the air, and Roy glanced up to see fierce amber eyes glaring at him. 'You're not well enough to get up yet. Get back into bed. '

'Well, if you insist.' Grasping the small, solid bed-side table that had been placed between the two beds, he managed to traverse the distance until he was perched on the edge of Ed's mattress. 'Move over then.'

'I meant your own bed,' Ed replied, but he did not sound very certain of that. His gaze flickered to the door for a moment. 'What if someone walks in and finds us ? How're you going to explain that one away?'

Roy sighed as he shuffled beneath the sheet, stretching out carefully and wrapping an arm around Ed's waist. 'I'll work something out, but right now I don't think I could bring myself to care if the Fuhrer himself stormed in.' The joking tone slipped from his voice as he took a deep breath, relishing the real weight and scent of Ed. The dreamworld offered privacy, but there was always a lingering suspicion that it was not real. Here, amidst the astringent scent of the hospital, there was no doubt. Happy endings were not meant to include greasy hair, bruises, scrapes and stubble. No fairy-tale had clear tubes trailing into the back of a beloved hand, but to Roy it was perfect.

'I just need to be close to you. I don't care about anything else right now.' He did not want to say that he felt too fragile to sleep a mere few feet away, but Ed probably understood anyway, because he relaxed against Roy's chest and buried his nose in the crook of Roy's neck, his voice muffled as he replied.

'Bet you care about it tomorrow.'

Roy raised an eyebrow, turning that possibility over in his mind. He had spent most of his life driving ceaselessly towards one goal. The bond had not changed that desire, but it had cleansed away some of the urgency and shifted his priorities. It made no demands, nor meddled with his ways of thinking, but Roy could feel its soft certainty glowing within him, like a light he never knew he had been missing.

Ed had made sure there was more to his life than ambition, and the bond reminded him of that.

'I'll care about _you_ tomorrow, same as I do now. That much, I do know.' Roy grinned at Ed's embarrassed snort, pressing a kiss to his temple and slipping his arms more firmly around Ed's body. Briefly, they lay in silence, enjoying one another's warmth, but before long the chilling questions that lingered in Roy's mind made their way to his tongue, desperate to be spoken.

'The darkness the doctors can see over your heart, is that something that Danner did with his alchemy? Something he left behind?' Roy pursed his lips, trying to keep the tension out of his body as he waited for an answer, but it was no good. Ed could probably feel it in his muscles, coiling like rusty barbed wire.

Ed sighed, opening one eye and looking up at Roy as if he were trying to gauge his likely reaction. 'It's damage from your heart attack,' he said at last, his words blunt and to the point. 'The bond shared it out, same as it did before. The quicker you get better, the sooner it will go away. Danner's gone, and so is his bond, Roy.'

'I didn't see much. I just saw him collapse and then you trying to get towards me.' Roy nestled down further beneath the sheets, attempting to create a warm cocoon for them both. 'Is that why you're so exhausted? Did he fight back?'

The shake of Ed's head was adamant, and Roy looked down to meet that sharp, intelligent gaze. 'It was one of the easiest things I've ever done. I was tied to the Gate by then, and it was like looking at him through its eyes. He was... nothing. All that trouble he caused, all those people he killed and he was still just human.'

Roy nodded, resting his cheek on top of Ed's head. 'What about the Gate now? Was that bond broken too?'

'It had to be. No one can live like that. It was –' Ed shook his head, as if he could not possibly explain. 'Nothing alive is meant to have that much power, not any more. Maybe it was different before Xerces, perhaps the Gate's changed since then, but I don't know how they lived with it. It was... too inhuman. No power's worth living like that.'

Quietly, Ed settled back against Roy's chest, hooking his foot over Roy's leg and pulling him closer. The peace settled around them, bringing contentment with it, and Ed's answers were enough to put Roy at ease. The man in his arms was still the Ed he knew and loved. Nothing Danner or the Gate could do would change that.

Sleep took them both softly, and this time there was no dreamscape, nor any awareness. Perhaps they were too tired to require their shared sanctuary, or maybe the need to heal over-rode everything else, but when Roy's mind emerged once more it was to see the strange, grey light of dawn peeking through the blinds that covered the windows and illuminating a figure just starting to settle itself in the chair.

'Those crutches don't exactly make you stealthy,' Roy whispered as he finally recognised the silhouette of his best friend. 'Should you be out of bed?'

'Should you?' Hughes asked, and though his voice was strained, Roy could still here the laughter dancing on its edge. 'I hope you realise you're lucky it's me here and not a nurse. They get upset about sharing. It's unhygienic.'

Roy grunted, shifting Ed slightly in his embrace so that he could turn on the lamp over the bed. The light was not the most flattering, and he winced at Hughes' pale and bruised face. A thick bandage and dressing pad was wrapped around his head, and the bruise down one side of his cheek had ripened to a thunderous purple. He knew there was another bandage around his friend's thigh, hidden beneath the loose pants.

'It looks worse than it is,' Hughes promised, lifting his hands as if to ward off Roy's concern. 'My leg hurts, but it's not broken. The crutches are just to help out while it heals, and my head...' He trailed off with a shrug. 'Well, it could have been a lot worse. Some of us are lucky to be alive. Al said it might have been something to do with the array?'

Roy glanced down at Ed, who was not as asleep as he was pretending to be. The calm presence on the other end of the bond had begun to stir like a placid pool being rippled by the wind, and the sheets shifted as Ed shrugged, not even lifting his head as he replied, 'Maybe. I can't be sure, but there's no other obvious explanation for it.'

'Well, I'm not going to question anything that saved lives. I don't think Hawkeye would have made it without it, and I'm not too sure about myself.' He shrugged, grinning at Roy's glare. 'We both lost a lot of blood, I know that much. Still, we should be getting out of here before long, unlike you two. Al told me you've got to stay here for at least another week.'

Roy grimaced at the reminder. 'I dread to think what the Fuhrer will have decided happened by the time I'm actually allowed back in the office.'

'Of course, you won't have heard!' Hughes grinned, scrubbing a hand through his dishevelled hair. 'Havoc told me that as soon as the Fuhrer knew about the mission, Marlow stepped in and claimed all responsibility. Which, since we managed to take down Danner and Myers, means he also gets all the credit.' He rubbed his hands together, leaning forward in the chair. 'He'll probably be here before long to get some answers. By the time they let you back on desk duty, the whole thing will probably have been forgotten, which, seeing as you two are bound together again, is probably a good thing.'

'So, what, your boss is saying it was all his idea?' Ed asked, frowning in confusion. 'He hardly did anything!'

'No, but he's a very high-ranking general, and despite everything, he and the Fuhrer are on good terms,' Roy explained. 'If Hakuro thought I was in charge of what happened, he would focus on the destruction of property, evidence and life. Since Marlow is claiming responsibility, then he is more likely to believe that the ends justified the means.' Roy thought of all the disciples who had died, and of the mass grave hiding its rotten, wretched secret in the copse. 'Even if we know better.'

Hughes nodded, his eyes clouding over as if his mind dwelt upon the same, stark memories. 'I've been instructing your men as best I can on how to proceed. There were some disciples who survived, and there was enough left of both Danner and Myers to identify them - although in Myers case they had to rely on his teeth.' Hughes sighed, and Roy knew he was thinking of the logistical maze of an investigation that lay ahead. 'Marlow's no fool. He's taking testimonies and doing it by the book, but I know I'd feel better if I had my finger on the pulse.'

'You'll be back in the office before me, I expect,' Roy pointed out, glancing towards the door as the distant sound of footsteps reached his ears. 'I'll be relying on you to keep me informed.'

'You're not meant to be working,' Hughes replied, but the smile on his face told Roy that he was not going to argue. Distantly, there was the gentle sound of a door opening and closing again, and Hughes reached down for his crutches. 'That sounds like my cue to leave, and it'd be a good idea for you to get back into your own bed, before that nurse get this far on her rounds.'

Grudgingly, Roy did as he was instructed, painfully reluctant to leave Ed's side, but very aware of Hughes' barely stifled grin. With all the stress and strain surrounding Danner's efforts, there had not been a moment for Roy to inform any of his men about the shift in his and Ed's relationship. However, it was clear that those who knew him best had drawn their own conclusions. Hughes certainly did not look like finding them sharing a narrow single bed was anything like a surprise. His expression was far more akin to approval, and Roy stifled a smile as he eased his way back to the cold, clinical embrace of his sheets.

'Get well soon, both of you, and Ed, do me a favour?'

When Ed raised an eyebrow, Hughes' grin widened. 'Look after him for me, all right?'

Ed's snort was half-mirth, half disbelief, but there was strength there. 'You take care of stuff in the office, and I'll make sure he gets back to his desk in one piece.'

'Deal.' Carefully, Hughes, opened the door, leaning out to check the coast was clear before bidding them a quiet goodnight and hobbling with surprising speed towards his own room. Roy strained his ears, listening until the whisper of a door being eased shut once more told him that his friend had made it back to his bed safely. It was one thing to treat his own ill health as an inconvenience, but he was not about to let his friends, who had followed him through thick and thin, do the same.

'You know they're going to make us stay for ages, don't you?' Ed muttered from where he lay, his hand still resting in the rapidly cooling spot where Roy had lain a few moments before.

'After the way I behaved when I woke up, we should be grateful no one's put a guard on the door,' Roy replied, shrugging apologetically when Ed glared at him. Before he could even begin to explain, a nurse bustled in to their room, flicking on lights as if the early hour was of no consequence. Immediately, the quiet intimacy of the room fled, and Roy forced his protests down before they could find voice. It was necessary, and the sooner he and Ed obeyed the doctor's orders, the sooner they would be allowed to leave.

Time moved strangely within those bland white walls, but as the days slipped by, it became easier to find the silver linings of enforced bed rest. Here, there was no need to excuse away the amount of time he spent in Ed's company. They had been put in the same room because they had both required close observation in those first hours of unconsciousness, and no one had even suggested separating them as their health began to improve.

Ed's presence was a balm to the boredom, and only the lack of privacy chafed on Roy's nerves, making him clench his teeth every time a nurse or doctor walked into the room. Perhaps the medical staff had sensed their longing to be close to each other, because Roy was almost certain that their rounds were getting more frequent, and he and Ed had to content themselves with soft words, rather than tender embraces.

Aches and pains began to fade but Roy barely noticed his own recovery. He was more intent on Ed, who had spent the first couple of days drifting in and out of consciousness and dragging Roy along with him. He claimed it was just exhaustion. His body had been running on minimal fuel and water, and he'd done the kind of alchemy that Roy's mind struggled to grasp. It would be enough to make anyone sleep for days, but Roy's concerns lingered, plaguing him both in reality and their aureate dream world.

Yet, gradually, things changed. Ed's lethargy turned to restlessness, almost like someone flicking a switch. His strength returned, and the light in his eyes grew brighter as the hours passed. Before long he was the same as he had always been: fiercely independent and, as the nurses grumbled frequently, a difficult patient.

Finally, a week had passed, and the doctor shifted uncomfortably beneath Ed's intense glare, choosing to meet Roy’s eyes rather than face the fidgeting, feral blonde in the next bed.

'You're doing well, General. You have definitely recovered enough to leave full time medical care, but I must insist that you stay away from work until I say otherwise. I've already told your superiors of the situation, and they are in full agreement with my decision.' The doctor flicked through the notes quickly, his lips moving silently as he did a quick calculation. 'Initially, I would like to see you here at headquarters every three days for a basic examination. We'll progress from there.'

'What about me? Can I go?' Ed demanded. He was sitting up in bed, his legs crossed on top of the blankets and his shoulders tensed. He looked ready to bolt, and Roy saw the nurse who was helping the doctor shift slightly to block the doorway as if she were expecting him to make a dash for it.

'I consider myself lucky that you have acquiesced to my requests and stayed as long as you have, Major,' the doctor replied mildly, glancing at his notes. 'Your kidneys and liver appear to have survived the ordeal, but you will feel weak for some time. The shadow on your chest x-ray also persists.' The doctor cleared his throat, as if annoyed by the irregularity. 'Like the general, I've recommended that you stay on medical leave. However, unless your health deteriorates, I'll only need to see you once a week. You can go back to work once that blemish has gone, or when I deem you fit for light duty.'

A faint smile crossed the doctor's lips as he got up from where he perched on the edge of Roy's bed and waved a hand towards the door. 'You're free to go. I believe Lieutenant Hawkeye is waiting in the corridor with some fresh clothes for both of you.'

Quickly, the nurse and doctor departed, leaving Roy and Ed to share a grin of relief as Hawkeye crossed the threshold with a bag in each hand. She was dressed in her uniform, as pristine as ever, and she gave them both a quick, critical examination before she relinquished her load. 'It's good to see you both back on your feet, sir,' she said, a small smile curving her lips. 'Even if you won't be back in the office for a while.'

'I doubt it will be as long as everyone believes,' Roy replied, his voice falling in to the unconsciously soothing tones he used when he thought Hawkeye was a breath away from mentioning the paperwork he was avoiding.

'You should take as long as you need, sir. We can hold everything together until you get back.' She shot him a meaningful glare, and Roy knew there was no arguing with that. Hawkeye may never have used a gun to back up her opinion, but there was always a first time, and he did not want to end up back in a hospital bed before he'd even had a chance to leave the building.

'Thank you.' Roy sighed, feeling his mind swarm with the weight of work that would be waiting when he returned. 'Still, if you need a signature urgently or have any trouble, then let me know. I am at least capable of holding a pen.'

Hawkeye smiled again, nodding her head in understanding. She read the unspoken request in those words: Roy did not want to be left out of the loop, and between them, his men would keep him informed. 'We have plenty of help, sir. Chief Inspector Anders is well enough to spend a few hours a day assisting with the investigation, and has been given a temporary desk in our office while we compile all of the necessary information. Alphonse has also been given authorisation by General Marlow to help with the workload.'

She looked over at Ed, her expression completely clear of anything like cunning as she added, 'Your brother wants to know if you would mind staying with the general for a while. He's in the office for most of the day, and he didn't want to leave you on your own.' Now Hawkeye's lips twitched, but she suppressed the smile: a paragon of military professionalism as she handed Ed and Roy a perfect excuse on silver platter. 'Of course, if that would be an imposition, he can make other arrangements.'

Roy and Ed met each others' gaze, and it was easy for Roy to see a reflection of his own simple delight in Ed's face. 'I think I can manage,' Ed said hurriedly, and his grin flashed like the sun breaking through the clouds. 'Tell Al I said thanks.'

Hawkeye nodded her head and turned towards the door. 'I'll wait for you in the car. It's parked out front, and we can leave whenever you're ready.' Her expression became serious, and her eyebrow lifted as she added, 'Please don't take too long. The sooner I can get you both home, the sooner you can recover fully.'

As her footsteps retreated down the hall, Roy delved into the bag she had brought, revelling in the luxury of clean, unstarched cotton. After days of minimal hospital comforts, getting dressed was like slipping into a hot bath, and he did not even hesitate as he quickly changed. Ed was no different, and it was not until Roy was toeing his way into some shoes that he realised Ed had stopped and was frowning at him in uncertainty.

'What is it?' Roy asked, his voice soft with concern as he noticed the pinched frown on Ed's face. 'Are you all right? Does something hurt?'

'No, nothing like that. I just – Are you sure it's all right for me to stay at your place? I understand if you want some space or whatever. I'll be fine in my apartment, if that's what you'd prefer. '

Roy smothered a smile at Ed's uncharacteristic uncertainty. Normally, he barged his way into people's lives as if he belonged there, but now on the edge of their unorthodox relationship, it seemed he was unsure.

'I'd been trying to work out a way to get you to come home with me, Ed,' Roy confessed quietly, sitting on the mattress with his back to the room as he did up his shoes. 'With the bond – everything that's happened – I just... I want some time where we can be alone together. I think we need it.' He did not mention why, because the bond spoke of that loud and clear. While their emotions were their own, unfaltering and genuine, it was too easy to get lost in the storm of reality and find themselves doubting that.

Time without Danner and death on their heels was a blessing, and Roy planned to make the most of it.

He looked up when Ed's hand touched his shoulder, closing his eyes in delight as cool metal fingers trailed around to the nape of his neck. With him sitting like this and Ed standing, Ed was taller for once, and an electric thrill shot down Roy's body and into the pit of his stomach as Ed tentatively bent down, brushing a kiss across his lips.

Long hair, currently untethered by Ed's usual ponytail, sighed down around Roy's face. He did not care that the scent of antiseptic lingered amidst those tresses, or that they lacked their usual silken softness as he wove his fingers through them, holding Ed close and running his tongue lightly over Ed's lips before delving inside.

It was like the first taste of freedom, and Ed's groan sounded more like a purr as he nipped at Roy's mouth. After all the stress and strain of the past couple of weeks – the immense pressure under which their relationship had formed – Roy felt a surge of light-headed relief. The love and passion in Ed's kiss was freely given without hesitance or restraint, and Roy felt the last of his fears float away.

It did not matter that the white hospital room still surrounded them, because in his ears Roy heard the hush of the wind teasing the wild barley, and the gentle wash of the sea. Alchemy may have tied him and Ed together, but now something stronger beat with a life of its own: pure and carnal, strong and undying.

What he and Ed shared had the power to last a lifetime, and Roy looked forward to the golden promise of spending each day in Ed's company.

Love bound them, heart and mind, body and soul:

Unbreakable.


	29. Epilogue

Weak sunlight stroked the gravestones, giving cold grey rock an ethereal glow. Dew shone like scattered gems, cast upon the final resting places of the dead. The earth at Ed's feet was newly turned: a final veil between him and the young man who lay six feet under in a cheap pine box.

It had taken the police weeks to decide that Danner's silent victims had no stories left to tell. At last, they were free to be buried, and now Ed stood in the civilian cemetery, painfully aware of too many fresh graves amidst the placid peace. The city had paid for the burials, and somehow the simple headstones were all the more painful to see. Those with family had words of endearment, but Greg's was nothing but names and dates. Ed was the only person left to mourn him, and even as he wished there was more of an epitaph, Ed knew he would never have been able to think of the appropriate words.

He swallowed hard, dragging in a deep breath as he grappled with the sick swirl of his emotions. He knew he was expected to grieve, but the time for that had been weeks ago, and Danner had robbed him of the chance. Besides, Ed knew Greg better than that. He would want to be remembered, but not here, and not like this. More than anything Greg had taught Ed to focus on all the blessings of the present. He had dragged him out of lingering guilt and oppressive responsibility and taught him to be grateful for the now.

After all, you never knew when there would be no more life left to enjoy.

'I'm sorry,' Ed whispered, his voice cracked around the edges as his gaze took in the other graves of the people he had known: dearly or vaguely, they were still dead because of their relationship to him. He had not attended the funerals. It felt wrong, somehow, to ignore the ceremonies, but Ed had known he would not be welcome. Now, at least, there was no audience. No one watched him with accusing eyes, and he could try and lay his ragged memories to rest.

Danner had dealt a deathblow to many people. Roy's men had been keeping their superior officer up to date on all the developments during their leave of absence, and Roy did not hesitate to share it with Ed. Not superior to subordinate, but lover to lover: human and compassionate. He had told Ed about the mass grave, and the military had done what they could. Most of the bodies were unrecognisable, but Ed could guess that they were disciples. Perhaps they had disobeyed Danner or been victims of an experiment gone wrong. Or possibly they had been those that survived Edil Park and had been killed to keep the secrets of the priest's mistake.

Either way, the death toll kept rising. If Danner had still been alive, they would have put him against a wall for what he had done. Not even the military could turn a blind eye to his sins in the name of alchemy. Still, Ed knew he had done the right thing. Not for all those who had died — who deserved justice — but for himself. Danner had answered for his crimes, and the Gate would never release his soul. He was gone for good, and somehow Ed could not quite believe a bullet would have had the same effect. It would have killed him, sure enough, but he would have lived on in Ed's mind: blackness amidst the oil slick of his memories — a nightmare he had not destroyed with his own hands.

A sharp shake of his head scattered his thoughts, and he took a step back, smelling the fresh scent of the grass and the crisp air. It was easy to get caught up in the foetid shadows of death, but right now the world smelled like life, and Ed knew that Greg would have wanted him to enjoy it. He would have urged Ed to embrace the future, rather than lingering in the past, and it was that gentle coaxing — a whisper in the night — that allowed Ed to turn his back and begin the short journey back into the world of the living.

Emerald blades of grass left droplets on his boots as the sun stroked gentle warmth against his skin. A frail breeze whispered across his face, carrying with it the sounds of the city as he picked his way between the gravestones and back towards the bustle of Central.

The wrought iron gateway, with its broad, tree-lined boulevard beyond was like a no-man's land between two worlds. The tide of urban noise washed against the cemetery's tranquil shore, and though the heady rush of existence was only a short walk away, Ed could still feel the lingering sleep of the dead, untouched by any such urgency.

Roy was waiting exactly where Ed had left him, leaning against the trunk of one of the trees. He looked at ease like that, but Ed could see the alertness in his features. He guarded the road as if he was prepared to turn any would-be mourners away, but as soon as Ed stepped out of the gate, he turned like a dog catching a scent, focusing all his attention on Ed as the bond sang softly between them.

He did not reach out, but instead waited patiently beneath the shade of the tree's bower, giving Ed the freedom to choose his own course of action. It would be easy to feel guilty for wanting Roy's embrace — for leaving one lover's graveside for another's bed — but it was a burden Ed could bear. He needed Roy, and he was not afraid to admit it.

The shadows touched his cheek with a cool caress as he walked into the sheltering gloom, reaching out to catch Roy's hand in his grasp. Here, they were sheltered from the prying eyes of others, and Ed gripped Roy's fingers tight, squeezing hard and feeling Roy return it before he stepped forward into the living, breathing circle of Roy's embrace.

Spark and spice perfume tickled Ed's nose, and despite himself, he felt a weak smile curve his lips. It made him think of home — not four walls and roof, but Roy. It did not matter where they were or what was happening, being this close was like finding the perfect sanctuary. It made Ed feel completely safe, and over the past few weeks alone together, he had begun to feel as if he were thriving in that simple sense of security

New love affairs always seemed raw, full of the desperate urge to be close and to prove yourself worthy of the attention. With Roy, there was none of that. Ed didn't know if it was because of the bond, or if he and Roy had simply had the time to open their eyes and really see each other, but they had belief, not in their own strength, but in one another.

All the normal insecurities and questions were still there, but they were not the blight they could have been, and with every passing day, growing confidence dulled their bite. Besides, Roy's need was a mirror of his own — not just sex, but intimacy and companionship. Ed could see why they called it falling in love. It was unexpected and unstoppable, and even though he had cared for Greg and others in the past, none of it could compare to this.

'Do you want to stay a bit longer?' Roy asked quietly, his hand smoothing down Ed's neat ponytail and following the curve of his spine. He stroked Ed like he was a wild animal, beautiful but fierce, and the simple slide of his hand, even over clothes, was enough to smooth tension from Ed's muscles, melting it away like ice beneath the springtime sun.

Ed thought about it, glancing back over his shoulder at the cemetery for a moment before shaking his head. 'I don't need to stand by a gravestone to remember Greg,' he said, lifting his chin and meeting Roy's gaze unflinchingly. 'Let's go home.'

Roy nodded, a light smile flirting on his lips and admiration burning in his eyes. It was not just lust, though Ed could see a fair measure of that and feel its answer stirring within him. Roy somehow took all of his flaws — his stubbornness and worse — and turned it into something worth appreciation. When Roy looked at him like that it was as if the narrow horizons of Ed's world unfurled. All the things he had written off as impossible became things he could attain if he only tried that little bit harder, and he only hoped that he could do half of that for Roy.

With a deep breath, Ed stepped back and set off down the boulevard. Out here, in the public eye, they could not be seen displaying affection: not even something as innocent as holding hands. The world wasn't ready for that, and while Ed snarled inwardly at their stupidity, he knew that Roy would change the way people thought. It would be slow, but little victories added up. Besides, if public distance was the price to pay for what they could share in private, Ed could bear it.

Standing close enough to Roy that their shoulders brushed, he could feel the warmth of his body and the strength of his soul. It was rich in his voice, coating every word of gentle conversation they shared, and for the first time in his life, Ed felt as if he could stop and relish the moment.

For years, it was as if he had been driven onwards, pushing harder and faster towards some unattainable goal. He thought getting Al's body back would change that, but somehow the desperation never eased — until now.

He did not regret the path his life had taken. How could he, when all the shadow and fear had finally led him here, out into the sunshine at Roy's side? But now, for the first time, he realised he would never have to walk the road of his choices alone again. Roy would always be there to help him take the burden, just as he would remain steadfast — Roy's support in times of need.

Equivalent Exchange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> B xxx  
> [My Tumblr](http://the-pen-pot.tumblr.com)  
> [My Sherlock Fic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulFiction/works?fandom_id=133185)  
> [My Hobbit Fic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Kingmaker/works?fandom_id=873394)  
> [My Fullmetal Alchemist Fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulFiction_FMA/works)


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